Got Them Old Prison Blues
by catchme21
Summary: An old prison...one very pissed off spirit...and a freak accident leaves Dean with the visions? The job suddenly changes when the visions start to take their toll, and both brothers are put at risk.
1. A Different Kind Of Jailbait

Disclaimer: looks around, checks wallet Nope, definitely don't own Supernatural. I don't get anything for writing this...just havin' a little fun lolz.

Quick setup before we begin:

So yes, Deer Lodge is a real town in Montana. Very very small town…one stop light…two miles long…haha…very very small. But it does have one thing that is awesome, and that's an old prison.

No one has actually died because of anything in that prison, but it wouldn't be very SN with out a death, would it?

Also, this happens sometime during the last half of Season 1. My stories really don't follow the story line, its better that way. I get to bring "dead" people back to life...muahahahahahaha...

Here goes!

* * *

Chapter 1 – A Different Kind Of Jailbait

"What the…" was all Sam could say as he pulled the Impala off of Interstate 90. Sam smiled as he looked over at his sleeping brother. Dean was not going to like this. Smiling even wider, Sam flipped up the radio, and Brian Johnson's voice filled the silent car. Out of all the tapes in his box, Sam was glad Dean had last been listening to AC/DC.

"Where are we?" asked a startled Dean as he began to rub his eyes.

Sam turned the radio back down. "Um…Deer Lodge, Montana."

"Deer what? Oh man, come on," Dean muttered, still trying to shake the sleep out of his eyes.

They had seen their fair share of small towns, but this one took the cake.

"Well, Dean, I saw some people needed help."

"Ok, relay what we're doing here again?" Dean sighed as they pulled into the gas station. I-90 Plaza the sign read. There was a restaurant just a little past it named 4B's, and a McDonalds across the road.

"Well, at least I found dinner," Dean muttered as climbed out of the car. Picking up one of the nozzles, he shoved it into his gas tank.

Soon, the brothers were sitting at one of the booths in the corner of the 4Bs. Windows swallowed two sides of the restaurant, so they had a view of the road and a corner of the parking lot, where the Impala sat. There were mountains everywhere, and the trees had just begun to turn red and orange with the changing of the seasons. Fall in Montana was not a bad sight Dean decided.

"So, there's this prison on the other side of town. Apparently it was shut down in 1979 and opened as a tourist attraction. Well, it had it's fair share of suicides and murders, so I guess the spirits are getting restless," Sam said in between bites of salad.

"They ever say why it shut down?"

"No, they just moved all of the prisoners to a new prison just outside of town."

"More coffee?" A waitress appeared and gestured towards Dean's empty cup.

"Uh, sure," Dean said, offering the cup. Squinting he read her name tag. "So, Norma, how much do you know about the Old Montana State Prison?"

"Well," she said, setting the coffee pot on the table. "It sure brings tourists. Why?"

"Well, we're sort of local history buffs," Sam replied. "And a big fan of ghost stories."

"Oh, really?" the waitress' eyes widened. "Well, I do believe you boys have come to the right town!"

"Why is that?" Sam prodded. Norma smiled and leaned in.

"Well, there's this group of local high schoolers. They have this little theatrical company and they like to put on plays in the old theater in the prison. Well, at their opening night last night, some mysterious stuff was goin' down. One girl even said a 'prisoner' appeared and threatened to kill her if she didn't leave."

"Norma! We got ice cream thawin' over here!"

After Norma bustled away muttering under her breath, Dean turned and looked at Sam. While Norma had been talking, Sam had pulled out his laptop.

"Damn, no service. Looks like I won't be doing any internet browsing from here." With an exasperated sigh, Sam closed the laptop. The boys finished their dinners in silence, each lost in thought. Near the end of his dinner, out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw a group of girls staring at them. Grinning, he made eye contact with one of them. The all looked away and began to giggle. Suddenly the group of girls was joined by a few guys, each of them wearing letterman jackets displaying a large '08'. _High school girls?_ Dean sighed. It was getting harder and harder to separate the jail bait from the legal.

"Well," said Dean, clearing his throat. "It's getting late, we better go find a motel. I need a shower."

"Yes, you reek," was Sam's reply. He had not even noticed the exchange.

Next to the front counter, Sam noticed a tower of post cards. Picking up one, he noticed it looked like an old prison.

"Is this the prison?" Sam asked Norma as she rang up their bill.

"Yep," she said. "If you take a left out of the parking lot here, just follow that road through town and you'll see it on your right, the tourist guide is on the left across the street." Dean sighed as Sam began to ask about the nearest library. Geek boy was rearing his ugly head again. All he wanted was a shower and a bed.

Dean hopped in the driver's seat this time, shortly followed by Sam in the passenger's.

"You've got to be kidding me…" Dean said as he started the engine. Sam followed his gaze, and found himself staring at a Super 8. "Everything in town is right here; we could walk everywhere for crying out loud."

Half an hour later the boys were settling into their room, and Dean was in the shower. Something was nagging at the back of Sam's mind, he just couldn't decide what. Something he had forgotten. A slight twinge of pain suddenly hit behind his eyes. _Oh not again_, Sam thought as the pain intensified. Clutching the dresser, he slowly made his way to one of the beds. He had just sat down when his vision swam and was replaced by…

Flash  
_He looked around, immediately knowing he was in the prison. A row of cells sat to his left, and Dean was walking to his right. Dean was saying something about how quiet it was, and how this job was a bust, when a terrified scream pierced the air. A flash of light exploded in front of his eyes and a burning pain began to sere through his chest._  
Flash

"Sam? What is it?" Dean's face swam into focus. Somehow he had ended up on the floor and Dean was kneeling over him.

"Oh, dude, towel!" Sam covered his eyes. Dean looked down to see that his towel had slipped from his waist.

"Haha whoops. Oh don't act like you haven't seen this kind of perfection before!" Dean flashed a smile and stood up, correcting his towel. Reaching down he helped Sam to his feet. Swaying, Sam sat on the bed.

"So what did you see this time?" Dean asked as he began to rifle through his bag in search of clean clothes.

Clutching the bridge of his nose in hopes of alleviating the pain, Sam repeated what he had seen in his vision. "But it just didn't feel right," he finished.

"What do you mean?" He had Dean's full attention.

"Well, normally a vision ends when I'm through seeing what I'm supposed to. This one…this one felt interrupted, like I couldn't finish it. I didn't even see what attacked us or who screamed."

"I'm sure it's nothing. Come on princess, let's get some sleep."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You're such a pain."

"And you're a bitch. So?"

Sam stood in front of the library, admiring its charm . It was a small library, and the doors were adorned with two marble pillars and small gargoyles littered the edge of the roof.

"Can I help you?" the stern voice asked when Sam entered. The librarian looked to be about 90, and had the attitude of a prune.

"Yes, I was wondering if I could look through everything you have on the Old Prison."

While Sam was in researching, Dean went off in search of answers from real people. He had dropped Sam off at the library and headed back in the direction of the prison. The bright red walls looked harmless in the bright morning sun, and it looked like nothing more than a tourist attraction. Right next to the prison was a small diner, complete with drive in dining.

Dean thought Sonic was the only restaurant left that did that. A big sign above the windows held the picture of a hamburger, and proudly exclaimed "Home of the Warden Burger".

Parking the Impala in one of the slots, he climbed out and quickly surveyed the scenery. The town had only begun to lazily start its day, and it was already 10 in the morning.

_Ding!_ A bell above the door announced Dean's arrival. A blonde girl stood behind the counter, twirling her hair and blowing bubbles with her gum as she read from a high school history book. Immediately she straightened, her eyes widening at the sight of Dean.

"Hi!" she exclaimed, and began to straighten her hair.

Flashing his most charming smile, Dean replied with a 'hi' of his own. He could have sworn the girl almost melted. Dean chuckled to himself, he knew he was attractive and he was going to use it.

"Home of the Warden burger, eh? Is that for the prison?" Dean decided to start with small talk.

"Um, no. Our high school mascot is a Warden." Feigning a look of interest, Dean nodded. The girl's eyes never left his face and she was giggling at almost everything he said.

"So, could I get a cup of coffee?" Again he flashed a grin. He turned to walk towards a table in the center of the room, and smiled. As he turned he saw her eyes wonder south, and he was pretty sure she was watching him walk away. High school girls were horn dogs these days.

"Here you go," the girl giggled as she laid the cup in front of him.

"Thanks…" Dean trailed off.

"Oh, Jessica!" more giggling. It was starting to wear on Dean's nerves. Pushing it aside, Dean offered his hand.

"Nice to meet you Jessica, I'm Dean." She began to walk back to the counter when he stopped her.

"So, Jessica, my brother and I are here visiting, and one of the places we want to check out is the Old Prison. Know anything about it?"

"Yeah, my family has owned this since the late 50s, my grandpa used to tell me all sorts of stories."

"What kind of stories?" This must have been what Jessica was looking for because she sat down in the chair across from Dean.

"Well, my favorite story is about the year after my grandpa opened, a horrible riot broke out. I think it was in 1959, they called it "Jerry's Riot". The guy was a former resident of Alcatraz, and got into some kind of argument with the warden. The riot lasted for 3 days, and a ton of prisoners and guards were killed. It was actually a pretty big event, I think the news went nation wide."

"Do you know the guy's name?"

"Jerry Myles. He was kind of a psycho killer I guess."

_Author's Note: Jerry Myles is a real prisoner, and the riot is an actual event. It was not my intention to include anyone real in my story; I just love the history of this prison as it is a big part of the town. Out of respect for the event and the people involved, I won't be including Jerry anywhere else. Thanks!_

"Yeah, I guess," Dean was replying as his phone rang. Sam's name flashed on the caller ID.

"Excuse me." He flashed a grin at Jessica and flipped his phone open. "Hey."

"Hey," came Sam's reply. "I couldn't find anything and the librarian is kicking me out, something about it being her lunch time." Dean chuckled at the frustration in Sam's voice. He could hear someone in the background yelling.

"Ok, I'm coming," Dean laughed as he closed the phone.

"Well, thanks for the coffee, and I'll see you later?" Dean asked as he paid his bill. As he was leaving he could have sworn he'd heard Jessica reply with a breathless, "God I hope so."

* * *

Hope you guys enjoy. I should have more up soon. 


	2. Electricity and Winchesters Don't Mix

Aw thanks guys for the awesome reviews!! I get a little nervous about this one (a writer too critical of her own work? no!), since it's my first and all, but all of my stories are linked so I couldn't post those without posting this one. I'll try to update daily since this one is already completed, but I'm not making promises haha.

Also, it has dawned on me (this was written before they really got into the visions being demon related) that there are visions and no demon. Like I said _wink wink_ my stories don't play nice with the show haha.

So last time, things were slow as the boys were figuring things out. Sam was being kicked out of the library as Dean was finishing up chatting up a local teen.

* * *

"So the prison could be haunted by hundreds of spirits?" Sam was on the laptop again after hearing Dean's recount of the riot. Sure enough his search was revealing hundreds of hits about the riot. Old black and white photos of the prison post-riot swarmed one of the pages, giving him a grisly view of what his imagination hadn't already come up with.

"Yeah, so we'd better get started."

"Dean, we're talking about hundreds of pissed off spirits here. This isn't our normal gig. We're going to have to plan."

"Yeah, yeah. Meanwhile we won't have to worry about the kids putting on that play." Since one of the main actresses had felt threatened she refused to go back. The show was being put on hold, it had made the front page of the small newspaper.

"So, make a plan today and scout tonight?" Sam's eyes never left the screen.

"Yep." Was Dean's reply as he began to gather the weapons. They were going to need a whole hell of a lot of rock salt.

It had been easy sneaking into the prison. The boys suspected that the town didn't see its fair share of crimes, so security was a little more lax. The prison looked much more menacing at night Dean noticed, regardless of the spotlights illuminating it.

"Well, might as well hit the biggest building first," he muttered. Straight ahead was a long white building, its windows barred. "The cells…" the brother's said in unison.

Walking in, Sam was hit with a sudden sense of déjà vu. It was his vision, in real time. This time, Dean wasn't talking about how simple it was going to be, he was silent. Hearing a clanking from up ahead, the boys continued their slow deliberate walk past the cells, Sam's senses were in overdrive, every nerve alert. Holding the rock-salt filled guns in front of them, they swept the area with their flashlights. Turning the corner, they heard the shrill scream from Sam's vision.

"What the…" Dean grabbed Sam's arm just as a shock of electricity sent them both into unconsciousness.

"Oh my God, you killed them! What'd you do, set that thing on high?!" was the terrified cry that pierced the air.

"Well, yeah," came the reply.

"Dean? Oh my God, Dean, wake up!" the voice continued. Groaning, Dean opened his eyes. Jessica was staring down at him.

"Sam?!" Dean sat up with a jerk, his eyes searching the darkness for his brother. A girl was huddled over the inert form laying next to him. "Sam!" he yelled. Reaching over he poked the younger brother's shoulder, then began to shake him. There was no response.

"What the hell happened?!" Dean demanded, turning his gaze to Jessica.

"Well…we sort of…you see…you scared the crap out of us!" she choked out. "And…Rachel here…well…she shot Sam…" Dean began to panic and rolled Sam over on his back, in search of blood. What he found was two prongs sticking out of Sam's chest, and Dean pulled them off with disgust. Following the wires, he found a stun gun laying a few feet away. "You grabbed Sam at the last minute and I guess you both got shocked…" Jessica was finishing.

"For crying out loud! Sam? Come on Sammy, time to wake up," Dean shook Sam again.

"Five more minutes," came a weak reply. Dean sighed with relief as he watched Sam open his eyes.

"Dude, you ok?" Dean asked as he pulled the half awake giant to his feet.

"A little nauseous and sore all over, what happened?"

A chilling laugh echoed through the empty cells, startled them all. "I'll explain later," Dean said as he began ushering everyone outside. Seeing Sam stumble he reached over to steady him.

Ten minutes later they were all seated in the diner across the street. It was almost 2 in the morning, but Jessica insisted they recover there for a moment. Sam was nursing his head and sipping from a cup of water. Dean's worried eyes never left him; he had suffered a hell of a shock. Dean felt almost no side effects, which meant his brother had taken the brunt of the shock.

"So, we got to talking about the prison after you left this morning, and we decided to go visit tonight. I really don't know what compelled us to go," Jessica started.

"Yeah, well you almost killed us," Dean bit back. "What were you thinking bringing a stun gun?"

"Well, it was for protection. We know about the angry spirits."

"And you think a stun gun is going to help? Scratch that, what the hell made you go in there in the first place? Don't give me that 'I don't know' crap."

"Well, a beebee gun wouldn't have done us much good. So we figured electricity was the next best thing. Besides, it's the only kind of weapon we could get our hands on. And we couldn't believe the stories, I mean come on, killer ghosts? But what were you doing there? A little late for a tour," Jessica's voice rose as she jumped into defense mode. She hadn't liked the look in Dean's eyes when he'd awoken, and she didn't like the look there now. But she'd be damned if she was going to get cussed out.

Sam moaned quietly and lowered his head, silently willing everyone to stop yelling and to give his pounding head a break.

"I think we should go," Dean said, gently pulling Sam up as he stood. Sam sagged against him slightly before he was able to maintain his balance, staying silent.

"Let us know if we can help," the girls replied. Nodding, Dean led Sam out the door.

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, causing Sam to squint. The worst of his headache was gone and his chest had stopped aching.

"Morning sunshine," Dean greeted him, stepping out of a steam filled bathroom.

"Morning. What time is it?" Sam sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Almost 8. How ya feelin'?"

"Like crap, but a lot better than last night. Did you get any sleep? You look worse than I feel," Sam said, noticing how exhausted Dean looked.

"Yeah, just woke up," he lied. The truth was he had watched Sam like a hawk the whole night, unable to sleep if he had wanted to. He remembered what a shock from a stun gun had done to his heart, and he had watched almost every breath Sam had taken in the past 6 hours.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower. New plan?"

"New plan."

The water had just turned on in the bathroom when the first sliver of pain hit behind his eyes. Suddenly, the pain intensified, blocking everything else out. He gasped and clutched at his head. His vision swam, and he was no longer in the motel room…

Flash  
_He was running through the prison, his chest ached from the strain of his breathing, someone was running along side him. Turning, he saw his brother. He was saying something, but he couldn't hear him over the roaring in his ears. He kept running until suddenly his body was thrown forward, he had tripped on something. Looking to where his brother had been, he found nothing but empty air. Turning, he looked at what he had tripped on. His brother's lifeless eyes stared back._  
Flash

"Damnit! Ow ow ow ow…" Dean said over and over as he waited for the pain in his head to dissipate. What the hell had that been? He knew he was tired but jeez...

"Dean? Dean!" Sam came running over to him, shaking water droplets everywhere.

"Oh shit that hurt!"

"Dean? What hurt? What happened?"

"I think it was a vision," he replied, more to himself than Sam.

"Wait, a _what?!_" Sam couldn't believe his ears. It was his job to have the head splitting visions. What the hell was going on?

"I saw…" Suddenly Sam's lifeless eyes flashed once again in his head, making his already knotted stomach flip. Running to the bathroom, he emptied what little contents his stomach carried into the toilet.

"Dean?" Sam came running in behind him.

"I'm fine," Dean grunted as he wiped his mouth. "I just have a bad headache now."

"What'd you see?" Sam gently prodded as they both made their way back to the bedroom. "And how are you having visions now?! Dean, what the hell is going on? I mean, something is seriously wrong-"

"Dude, slow down, one panic attack from you at a time."

"Well, what'd you see?"

"I…don't really remember," Dean lied.

"That's bull. We've played this game before, I know how this works, remember? Now what'd you see?"

"I don't even know if it was a vision! I mean, hell, that's your job."

"Well, it sure sounds like a vision."

"Damnit Sam, drop it!" Dean was visibly shaken, so for the time being Sam backed off. "Let's just go get some breakfast."

* * *

Duh duh dah!! Alright, I promise its going to start picking up from here. However are the boys going to handle this one? _giggle_


	3. Getting Nowhere Fast

Promise it's going to start picking up here soon. Gotta hate the build up scenes lol.

Thanks for reading. :)

* * *

"Dr. Miller."

"Hey Doc, it's Sam."

"Sam? Sam Winchester? Well how the hell are ya!"

"Good. Hey, I need to ask a favor. How much do you know about electrical currents and their effect on the brain?"

"Wow. Right to business, you guys must be knee deep in trouble again. Why do you ask?"

"Well, as you know for a while I've been having these…visions."

"Yes, Dean told me when he called last time."

Sam wondered when Dean had last spoken with Dr. Miller. He figured that was a conversation for another time. "Yesterday, Dean and I both got electrocuted, and we were both touching. Now I think Dean's having the visions."

"You both got…holy cow…you guys alright?"

"Yeah, we're both fine. But this morning Dean had a vision, and for the first time in months I slept pretty deep."

"What'd he see?"

"He's not sharing, but I know the signs of a vision better than anyone. Think you can help?"

"Well, give me a couple hours. I'll do some research, call some contacts and see what I can come up with. I'll give you a call back in a few hours. Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"Thanks Doc."

"Who was that?" Dean looked up from the laptop as Sam entered the room.

"Pizza. Food will be here soon."

"I should hope so, the pizza place is only 3 blocks from here and I'll bet we're the only customers."

"Find anything out?"

"No, just the same old. A crap load of people died in the prison during it's time. We're going to need some serious cleansing here."

"One thing just doesn't make sense. Why are the spirits suddenly attacking?"

"Huh?"

Sam tried again. "Well, the prison has been a tourist attraction for the past 27 years, and there have only been deaths in the past year."

"So you think something has aggravated these spirits? Pissed them off somehow?"

"Yep. The only thing we have to figure out is what."

Suddenly the vision flashed back in Dean's head. There was no way he was letting Sam go back in that prison...ever.

Noticing the sudden change roll across Dean's face, Sam decided to press again about the vision.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Don't you think it's time to tell me about the vision?"

"I told you, I don't remember it all."

"Come on Dean, that excuse doesn't work when I use it, it's sure as hell not going to work when you use it!"

"But you do use it! So drop it for now Sam."

A knock on the door interrupted them both. Sam peeked out the window. "It's the pizza guy."

------

"Spanky's Pizza, eh?" Dean chuckled as he grabbed a slice and settled himself back down in front of the computer.

"So, we either have to perform a massive cleansing, or figure out what stirred up the ghosts."

"Any ideas college boy?"

"I'll think of one."

------

"So, what if this is just like that asylum?" Sam was saying as he stared at his laptop, his eyes glued to one spot. Dean lay on his back on one of the beds, tossing a small ball into the air. Four hours of research had turned up nothing and being cooped up in such a small room was taking its toll on the hunters.

"What do you mean? You think some doc was experimenting on the prisoners?"

"No. One spirit is leading them all, stirring them all up, keeping them all from moving on. We get rid of that one spirit, the rest will follow."

"How did you come up with that?"

"Well, in a riot it usually starts with one incident and escalates. Normally, it's one person leading the pack, feeding the fire, that sort of thing."

"The riot that took place in the prison, the guy that led it didn't die though."

"Yeah, but who's to say someone isn't leading them now?"

"I don't know Sammy, is that the best you could think of?" Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes. A dull headache was beginning to form, making it hard for him to keep his emotions in check.

"Um, yeah. You got anything better?" Sam bit back.

"Damnit!" Dean growled as the pain suddenly heightened, filling his mind with images. Sucking in a sharp breath, he braced himself for what he knew was coming.

"Dean? Dean!" Sam was at his side instantly. Clutching Dean's shoulders, he willed his brother to talk to him. _So this is what he sees when I have a vision?_ Sam thought, and suddenly it was no wonder the visions had always freaked his brother out.

-Flash-  
_Once again he was running through the prison, Sam at his side. Sam was yelling something, but once again he couldn't be heard. Remembering the last vision, and wanting to see what had taken his little brother down, Dean turned this time, his full attention on Sam. A dark menacing cloud was forming behind his little brother, and suddenly it struck out, sending Sam to the ground. Dean turned to face the cloud, just as it hurdled itself towards him._  
-Flash-

"No!!!" Dean yelled, his voice filling the small motel room. "Son of a friggin' bitch!!"

"Dean? Dean, talk to me!" Sam swore silently, knowing the pain his brother was going through.

"I'm…I'm ok." Dean waited for the pain in his head to settle back into a dull ache. How the hell did Sam do this? His head was hurting like a bitch! "Ow," he whined.

"What did you see?"

"Nothing."

"Damnit Dean, you can't do this! Obviously you're seeing something, something that could help us, and you had better damn well share!"

"Oh, oh, we're going to talk about sharing visions are we?" Dean rose from the floor. "How many times do I have to grill you about your visions? How many times do you withhold information from me?!"

Sam's eyes lowered to the floor. Dean was right. He had no right to be a hypocrite. But two wrongs didn't make a right.

Sighing, Dean lowered himself onto the bed. "We got attacked."

"By what?"

"I don't know. Some large black cloud lookin' thing, it was in the prison."

"Any clue what it was?"

"No, I just said I didn't know!"

"Ok, ok, sometimes in the visions I get feelings, feelings from whatever we are battling. Sometimes that helps me to sort out whatever it is I'm looking at, helps me to better understand the vision."

"You've got to be kidding me. So I have to turn into a girl now? Oh man."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Just concentrate on what you felt while seeing the cloud."

He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips in annoyance. Sam's gaze never waivered.

Closing his eyes, Dean tried, but every time he pictured the cloud, all he could see was Sam's lifeless eyes staring back. Blocking that from his mind, he forced himself to concentrate on the cloud. He was suddenly hit with a powerful wave of desperation and grief. But something stood out above all of that. He felt one single wave of anger and pure hatred. Opening his eyes again, he found Sam staring at him, concern etched into his face.

"Dude, stop looking at me like that. You're freaking me out."

"Well, did it work?"

"Yeah. I think you were right about the one spirit leading the rest. The black cloud? I think it was a riot of the spirits."

Sam's eyes widened. This was a new one. "So you think the spirits have joined together to form one large entity?"

"Wow Samantha, that was reading a little too much into what I just said."

"You're such a jerk."

"And you're a bitch, must we continue to confirm it?"

"So," Sam said, wanting to change subjects, "any idea on how to stop something like that?"

"Dude, you know about as much as I do at this point."

"You and Dad never came across anything like this before?"

"Nope."

"So we're going to have to figure out how to stop this thing and we've never seen anything like it."

"I'd like to phone a friend." Was all Dean could say.

Sam stretched his long frame and walked towards the window. The sun was just rising, neither of them had gotten much sleep. It had been two days since they had pulled off into this town, and they were no closer to figuring anything out. And on top of that, Dean seemed to have inherited his visions. Sam hadn't had one since he had seen them get shocked, so he was pretty sure they weren't just sharing them. Sam glanced at the closed bathroom door, the sounds of Dean humming and the water running could be heard.

His phone rang, startling him. "Dr. Miller" showed up on the screen.

"Hey Doc. What's up?"

"Hey Sam, how are you two doing?"

"As good as can be expected. Were you able to find anything out?"

"Well, not really. There is no medical explanation for what happened. But that is not surprising."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, there's not even a medical explanation to why you have visions."

"Oh, well, did you happen to find anything out from any of your contacts?"

"Struck out there as well. You boys have gotten yourselves into quite an unusual situation. The best I could come up with is the possibility that somehow the electricity that coursed through your bodies caused some kind of switch, or transfer. I don't even know if it can be reversed."

"Well, we'll just have to work with it then. Can I ask you something else?"

"What's going on?"

"Well, we believe we're dealing with some sort of riot of spirits. There was a pretty bad riot in the old prison we're investigating now, and we believe the spirits are trying to recreate it. They have all somehow fused together and have created one large ball of pissed off energy." Silence fell for a few moments. The doctor then let out a slow whistle.

"What have you boys gotten yourselves into?"

"I wish we knew."

"Sounds like you're either going to have to perform some sort of large cleansing, or find out whatever is causing the spirits to riot."

"Thanks Dr. Miller."

"You guys be careful. I'll do some more calling and digging, and let you know if I find anything else out."

"Thanks Doc." Sam once again closed the phone. Reaching for his father's journal, he began to leaf through it, searching for more contacts.

"Who was that?" Dean asked as he stepped out of the bathroom.

"Dr. Miller. All he could do was confirm what we both already thought."

"Dr. Miller? Why'd you choose to call him?"

"Well, to see if he knew any medical reason as to why you're suddenly having visions."

"Did he have any answers?"

"Nothing. He's going to call a few of his contacts and get back with us."

After calling Caleb, Pastor Jim, and an assortment of other contacts found in the journal, the boys had no luck, nothing but promises to call back if anything was found. They really were on their own.

"Maybe we should call Dad."

"Dean, no. It would be no use. He's never answered before, and he's not going to answer this time."

"We might as well try." Sam sighed in frustration and watched his brother dial the number.

* * *

skips off la la la la laaa:)

More up tomorrow.


	4. Finally Finding Answers?

Thanks for reading guys.

* * *

"Dean!" Jessica smiled brightly as him and Sam entered the small diner once again. "How are you both feeling?" 

"Better. Listen, we need your help," Dean said, getting right down to business. Dean's call had been answered by his father's voicemail yet again, telling him he needed to call himself.

"Um, sure. What can I do?"

"We need you to talk to your grandfather. We think there is something bad going down in that prison and we need more information on it."

"I…You can't," Jessica said, her eyes took on a look of sadness.

"Why is that?" Sam asked.

"He passed away, about 3 years ago."

"I'm sorry," Sam said gently.

"Eh, it's ok, you guys didn't know. What do you need more information on? I'm pretty sure I know as much about that place as he did. He used to tell me prison stories when I went to bed at night."

"The riots. Was there just that one?" Dean asked.

"Well, there was plenty of uprisings, but nothing close to the riot in 1959."

"You said that there were also a lot of suicides in the prison," Sam asked.

"Yeah, even in the new one a lot of the prisoners are killing themselves."

"Do they have their own little graveyard where all the bodies are going?" Dean asked. He was beginning to get frustrated, they were getting nowhere.

"Um, no, I believe the bodies get released back to their families. Dude, you ask some morbid questions."

------

"So that rules out salting and burning the bodies," Sam said to Dean as they left the diner.

"Ah, we'd have to sort out the spirits in the cloud first. We're just going to have to figure something else out." The Impala purred to life.

"We're running out of ideas, resources."

"I know," Dean said, frustration evident in his voice. For once he wished things would go easy.

"We'll have to go back tonight."

"What? No Sam, we need more information before we go charging back in there." At that Dean surprised himself. Normally he was the one to go in guns blazing, while Sam wanted to do research. He really was turning into a Samantha.

"The only way we're going to be able to figure out what spirit is causing the cloud is if we go back in there. Maybe we can get a read on it, or maybe it will reveal itself."

-Flash-  
_Sam's lifeless eyes…_  
-Flash-

Dean shuddered. No, he couldn't do it. Sam wasn't going back in there. He opened his mouth to tell Sammy exactly what was going to happen when Sam continued.

"Dean, you know that's the only way. We haven't found out much on the outside of the prison. I think that's the way they, or whatever's in there, want it to be. We have to go back in."

"No Sam, there's got to be another way."

"Damnit Dean, why are you so adamant about not going in? I've never had to convince you that we need to do it this way before. What's wrong with you?"

"Because…I couldn't take it…we can't…you…" Dean pursed his lips as they pulled into the Super 8 parking lot.

"Dean, what is going on with you? Are you ok?"

"No! I'm not ok! I'm not ok with not knowing what the hell is going on, I'm not ok with not knowing how the hell to beat this thing, and I'm not ok with watching you fucking die!!"

Silence fell as Dean parked the car. Once the growl of the engine died, there was little more sound than the familiar ticking as the engine cooled.

"So that's what this is about? I die? You saw me die?"

"Yes, are you happy? I watched the thing kill you."

Silence again.

"Well, it's just not going to happen."

"How the hell do you know that? Huh Sam?"

"Because, how many times have I seen you die? We've always figured a way around it, and you've always been saved."

"This time is different Sam. We don't know what we're doing; we're sort of out of our element. How do we know the next time we go in there, you won't be killed?"

"We treat this as any other angry spirit, and we go in prepared."

"There isn't enough rock salt in the world to repel that thing. If you had only seen the size of it."

"Well what do you suppose we do Dean? We can't let the thing get out of control. It's rallying for something."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Think about it. The sudden deaths. The spirits gathering. One spirit is leading them all to do something."

"Hell I don't know Sam! This is…" Dean trailed off, running his fingers through his hair. Son of a-

"Why did I think of it before!"

"What?" Sam was taken back by Dean's sudden outburst.

"Remember when the waitress told us about the girl who had been threatened by a ghost?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think it's time we go talk to one more resource."

------

"Well, I was wondering when you two handsome strangers were gonna come back and visit me!" Norma greeted them with a big smile. The restaurant was empty, and probably would be the rest of the day. "Enjoying your stay?"

"Um, yeah. Hey, remember when you told us about the girl who saw that ghost?" Once again Dean wasted no time in getting to the point.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"Where do you think we could find her?"

"Why?" Norma raised an eyebrow.

"Well my Sammy here," Dean laughed as he wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders, "is just all sorts of curious about that prison now, and he hopes he can see a real ghost too." Sam brushed Dean's arm off, but turned to Norma with a gentle smile.

"We were wondering if she could describe who she saw. We're kind of interested in finding out who might possibly be haunting the prison and why."

"Well, I believe you could find her at the prison actually."

"What? Why would she be there?"

"Well, they finally convinced her to do the show, so they're having their dress rehearsal. Her name's Becky Hollman."

"Thanks," Dean winked as they turned to leave

------

"You're kidding? It's going to cost us to get in there?" Dean stared at the price listing for tickets.

"Yeah, that's why they call it a 'tourist attraction.' Here," Sam said as he came up behind Dean, handing the cashier the money.

"Enjoy your tour," said a young man who couldn't look more bored.

"Thanks." Following the signs, the boys found themselves in the courtyard. The prison looked so bright and fresh in the daylight. A long sidewalk wound through the yard, and each of the buildings had little signs posted by them to explain the building's history. Finally they found the old cafeteria where the show was being held. The sign mentioned it was an off limits area during the self guided tour.

"Pssh," Dean said as he pushed the door open. Voices could be heard from within. Heading down a ramp, they saw a part of the cafeteria had been converted into a small theater.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to have it in the actual theater?" Dean asked.

"I guess that the actual theater is closed off, even has an old gallow in the center of it."

"Well that's just creepy."

"Oh Todo, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!" a petit figure on the stage said to her stuffed dog.

"Bet that's her," Dean said as he and Sam took a seat in the back. They waited patiently for the rehearsal to be over. Dean laughed and poked fun at some of the lines, but finally they saw the girl trotting up towards where they were sitting.

Giving them a small smile she passed them by.

"Becky Hollman?" Sam said as they got up to follow her.

"Yeah?" she turned around, a surprised look on her face.

"My name's Sam Connel and this is my partner Dean Archer. We're with..._The Missoulian_ and we were wondering if we could ask you some questions."

"Wow, _The Missoulian_? Are you guys here to cover the play tonight?" her eyes glittered with a sudden excitement.

"Uh, no. We actually wanted to ask you about the ghost sighting the other night."

"I really don't want to talk about it," Becky said as she began to walk away, her attitude changing in mere moments.

"We won't take very long, we promise," Sam tried again.

"No, I didn't see anything, ok? It was just my imagination."

"Do you really believe that?" Dean asked. They were still following her. At Dean's question she stopped and faced them once again.

"Um…Sure, I mean, who sees ghosts? Why are you guys even wanting to know?"

"We're doing a piece on this old prison, and we'd like some first hand accounts of sightings," Sam answered.

After studying them for a few moments, Becky sighed. "I was walking down this sidewalk towards the exit when this guy suddenly appeared in front of me. I thought it was one of the guys trying to scare me until I realized I could see through the guy. He just pointed at me and told me that if I didn't leave the prison, that if we didn't leave them alone, he'd kill us all. I don't even know what he meant by we, I was walking by myself."

"Could you give a description of the guy?" Sam asked gently.

"Yeah. He had on this typical prison jumpsuit, but it was ripped. He had long hair and a big ugly scar stretching across his forehead. I think the number on his suit was 029384. I've got a mind like a camera," Becky said, pointing to her head and grinning.

"Ok Becky, thanks!" Dean turned and began to walk away, Sam following.

"You're…welcome I guess," Becky said slowly as she watched them walk away. That had to have been the weirdest interview ever.

* * *


	5. Geekboys in Distress Oh My!

Well, it finally let me upload a document. Holy crap haha. After a week of struggling...gah.

Anyway, I apologize profusely, and I hope I haven't lost anyone. Thank you for your reviews! I like hearing what you guys think, and critism is always welcome lol. Let me know if something isn't fitting right or making sense. I tend to get going and I sort of lose the ability to clearly explain myself cuz it all makes sense in my head lmao.

So the last time the boys got in and had a chat with the local actress, and found out what had spooked her into postponing the play...it was gasp the ghostly prisoner. Dean is still having visions and they need to put this spirit to rest soon...

Disclaimer as before: I don't own anything in this story except for sweet little Jessica. This is merely for fun and no infringement intended. w00t w00t

* * *

"So all we have to do is go to the police station and do a search for the prisoner matching Becky's description," Sam said as he wrote the number '029384' down on the back of the prison postcard he'd bought. 

After a few minutes of flashing old, faded, fake IDs and flirting with the desk clerk, the boys were seated at one of the computers at the back of the police station.

"Well well," Sam said after a few minutes of searching. Prisoner 029384 stared back at them, a large scar graced his forehead and his eyes held a look of hatred. "Tony Millhen was serving a life sentence when one day in 1968 he struck a guard. His visitation rights were taken from his family and he was placed in solitary confinement, a punishment that was deemed cruel and unusual by the media and other prisoners," Sam read. "It says here that from that day on Tony did nothing but try to rally the prisoners to overthrow the Warden."

"Think we found our angry spirit?" Dean asked as he watched Sam print out a copy of Tony's record.

"We have no way of knowing, but this Tony Millhen sounds like a pretty good candidate."

"Ok, so we've found our angry spirit. Now we just have to figure everything else out," Dean added as they left the station. A chilling breeze swept across the parking lot, causing both hunters to wrap their coats tighter.

"Yeah. What I can't figure out is how Tony's rallying the spirits. I mean, a spirit is usually tied to the place where they're buried, right?" Sam said as he headed towards the passenger side of the Impala.

"Yeah?"

"So that means that Tony and the others have to be buried within the prison walls somewhere, we just have to figure out where, and the ghosts are toast."

"That was a cute rhyme there Sam. I'm sure-" Dean was interrupted by the now familiar ache building in his head. Throwing the keys to Sam, "Why don't you drive," was all he could manage to say between bared teeth as the throbbing increased. He threw himself into the passenger side of the Impala and let the vision overcome him.

-Flash-

_Pacing his cell, he felt like a caged animal. They had no right to do this to him, to take his family from him. And that guard had deserved it, someone had to stand up for the prisoners when the_ 'authority figures' _took pot shots. Making another notch in the wall with his stolen butter knife, he realized he'd only been in solitary confinement for a week. He wasn't going to last, he needed to see his wife and little boy. That was it. in that moment, he decided the prison was going down. No longer would he be a prisoner. "Tony my boy, you're a genius," he laughed to himself as he began making plans._

-Flash-

"Dean?" Sam's voice brought him back. They were headed back to the motel.

"Yeah, I'm ok," he muttered. Surprisingly the pain had already subsided, and was almost completely gone.

"What'd you see this time?"

"Yeah, it's Tony. I saw him, at least I think I did. But it was more like I was Tony. I felt him."

"Oh, we're feeling now, are we?" Sam poked.

"Yeah, well don't get used to the idea."

"Oh don't worry Denise, I won't."

"Man, shut up."

After a little more time on the laptop, Sam had found out a man by the name of Storm Johnson was in charge of handling the bodies of the prisoners, whether it be to turn them back over to their families, or find a place to bury them. Storm Johnson was no longer alive, but he was survived by a son.

"I think it's time we go visit his son. Deer Lodge Floral, huh?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"How is it a guy has a prison grave digger for a father and he opens his own flower shop?" Dean smirked as they headed out again.

-

"What can I help you boys with?" said a man who had not seen enough sun in his time as the boys entered the small shop. They were hit with the overwhelming smell of fresh flowers even though it was fall. Country music played from an old radio on the counter, filling the store and wrapping around them. The man behind the counter's face was pale, but his eyes were kind, and he looked well over his 46 years of age.

"Nick Johnson?" Dean asked.

"Yeah? Can I help you?" Nick repeated.

"Name's Dean Archer and this is my partner, Sam Connel. We're with _The Missoulian_, doing a piece on the old prison. Could we ask you a few questions?"

"Me? Uh, sure. I don't know how I'll be able to help you, but shoot."

"Your father worked at the old prison, didn't he?"

"Yeah, right up until it closed and they opened the new one."

"Did you father ever tell you about his job?"

"My father didn't have the greatest job. It's not something you tell your family over dinner, ya know?"

"Right, right. We're just trying to get a feel for how the prison ran, and any information you have would be greatly appreciated," Sam added.

"Well, my dad kept a journal. He said it kept him sane, that he didn't want to talk about it, but that was his way of getting it all out."

"Do you have his journal?"

"Yes. But guys, I really don't feel comfortable letting you read it. It was my dad's."

"Right, and we apologize. We're just looking for one prisoner in particular that your father may have had to deal with," Sam tried again.

"Oh yeah?"

"Tony Millhen."

"Huh, that's funny," Nick laughed.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"That was one of my dad's worse cases. I'm pretty sure he's the reason my dad retired when he did."

"Why do you think that?"

Nick crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned a hip on the counter. Dean grimaced inside, it looked like the man was settling in to recite a book. "Well, it was 1975 I believe. Tony had made himself well known through out the prison. He was always trying to rattle the guards, rally the prisoners, that sort of thing. He had a tough time after they took his family away from him. No one knew it, but they never did give his family back to him, it's like they conveniently forgot to take him off the bad list. They say his wife left the area in 1972 with the kids and no one ever saw them again. Well, in 1975 Tony tried one last time to start a riot. That time, he picked a fight with the warden himself, and before anyone knew what was happening, fists were flying. They shot Tony, killing him.

They only meant to take him down, but he died from complications. My dad had to find an area in the courtyard to bury him; they wouldn't even allow Tony's body to leave the walls."

Whistling softly, Dean gave Sam a look that said "bingo".

"Would you happen to know where they buried him?" Sam asked.

"What kind of story did you say you were doing?"

"Well, now that this new information has made itself known, we might write an piece on Tony. Maybe even describing where they buried him, you know, exposing the horrors of those days."

"I think in his journal he said he buried the body in the south west corner. He also made a little cross of stones since Tony had no one else there for him. Dad was a bit of a sentimentalist."

"That's nice," Dean rolled his eyes, earning a glare from Sam. "How many other prisoners did your father bury inside the walls?"

"Um…none. Tony was the only one in the history of the prison. All the rest either had families, or were buried in unmarked graves next to the cemetery."

"Thanks for your time," Sam said hastily as he rushed Dean out of the flower shop.

"Thank God man, if I had to see that sick little bear grinning at me for one more second. There were stuffed animals everywhere! I thought that was a flower shop."

"Dean, were you paying attention in there?"

"Yep. Now we know where the son of a bitch is buried and can send him to hell."

"No, Nick said he was the only one buried in the walls of the prison."

"Yeah, so?"

"So…where are the rest of the spirits coming from?"

"Well, it doesn't really matter, cut the head off the snake and the body will die," Dean smiled, seeming impressed with his analogy. He sighed when his humor failed to reach Sam and continued: "Let's just go salt the bones and burn them. Then we can get the hell out of here."

Sam wished it was going to be that easy. But something told him the battle was just getting started

-

It was a little after 7 pm, and already the town had been plunged into darkness. "Gotta love the shorter days," Dean said as he walked next to Sam. They were once again in front of the prison.

"You guys here to watch the play?" A voice startled them, it was the lead of the play, Becky.

"Yeah, sure. We thought we'd catch some entertainment tonight," Dean smiled.

"Well, enjoy the show!"

"Thanks," Sam replied as they watched Becky walk off in the direction of the theater.

"Crap. That's just great, forgot all about the play tonight," Dean said, his mind working to formulate a plan.

"We'll just do this while everyone is watching the play," Sam said, his mind also racing. Spirits were known to get a little pissed when you were destroying their bodies. They often lashed out and the last thing they needed was a theater full of targets.

Hoisting their bag of supplies over his shoulder, Dean began scouting the courtyard. People were everywhere, milling around, waiting for the show to start. This was going to be a tough one. Trying to blend into the background, the boys noticed a number of police officers also milling around.

"Welcome to the show! If everyone could please take their seats, we'll be beginning shortly!" a voice rang out. Soon the crowd had disappeared inside the theater, leaving the courtyard full of police.

"Just great," Dean said as one of the cops started heading in their direction.

"Better get a move on boys, wouldn't want to miss the show would ya?" he said, his eyes wandering to the large duffel bag Dean held.

"No sir," he replied. His mind was coming up short of a plan and they were forced to go on inside. They stopped short by the door, but were forced to go so far as taking a seat when they spied the cop following them, watching them.

"Psst, Dean! Sam!" Jessica waived excitedly at them. She fought to exit the row she was sitting in, tripping and stumbling over legs and feet. Soon, she was sitting next to them, looking a little out of breath.

"So you guys figure out what's going on yet?"

"I think so. What are you doing here? It can't be to catch the show," Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I was actually hoping you guys would be here. Screw the drama geeks."

Dean laughed, and was greeted by the angry glares of those seated around them. The show had begun, and apparently Dean was ruining their enjoyment as the tornado swept up Dorothy's house."Well, here we are," replied he, whispering.. Suddenly, he had an idea.

"Hey, Jessica, you said you wanted to help, right?" Sam shot him a look that said "what the hell are you thinking".

"Oh, man, yes! Would I ever!" Another round of shushing noises and glares. Jessica just glared back.

"Ok. We need to do some work outside, but can't because of the cops. Think you could come up with a distraction?" Dean asked, flashing her a devilish grin.

"Wait, won't I get in trouble?" Jessica asked uneasily. The last thing she needed was to get herself into trouble and to be put on the list. Cops in this town got bored. Bored cops looked for kids on the list for shits and giggles.

"Naw, we'll think of something. Go tell them you saw someone sneaking around outside or something."

"Oh, I could so do that! Leave it to me guys!" she said as she turned to leave, all fear of trouble forgotten.

"Jessica!" Dean stopped her. "Make sure all of the cops leave with you!"

The boys followed her outside. She gave them a wink as she turned and ran to the first cop she saw. They couldn't quite tell what she was saying, but she was waving her arms frantically and spinning all around, and suddenly she took off towards the gate. Whatever she had said worked, because the cop was suddenly yelling out to the others, and they all ran out the gate after Jessica.

"About time. Let's go Sammy." The Winchesters hunkered as they ran to the south west corner of the courtyard. Sure enough there were five little white stones in the shape of a cross, sunken into the grass and barely visible. Throwing the bag to the ground, Dean began to dig for a shovel. Finding one, he was soon plunging it into the dirt, over and over again.

Sam kept guard, his gaze sweeping the dark silence of the yard. For good measures, he charged the gun in his hand, feeling comfort in the familiar click as a round full of rock salt was chambered into the barrel. Dean was soon muttering and cursing, continually stopping to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Sam smiled as he realized Dean was moaning about having to do all of the work himself.

Storm must have gotten lazy...or just too old...in his old age, the grave wasn't that deep. Soon Sam heard another noise behind him, it was the shovel contacting with the coffin.

"Ok Tony, time to go to hell," Dean grunted as he opened the lid to the coffin.

"Now boys, ya'll wouldn't be wantin' to do that to me, would ya?" A voice whispered, the chilling words accompanying a sudden drop in temperature. Sam was launched backwards, the gun flailing uselessly to the ground.

"Sam?!" Dean yelled, his full attention on the ghost that had appeared where moments ago his brother had been standing.

Picking himself up from the ground, he looked at Dean and yelled, "Finish it!"

Running past the ghost he picked up the gun from where it lay, and continued running. The ghost gave chase, its attention focused on the only moving object.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said as he pried the box open. Jumping out of the hole, he dumped as much salt as his shaking hands would allow. He picked up the lighter fluid, but before he had time to start pouring, he remembered Sam. Later, he would realize this was his moment of failure...the mistake that would cost them. He turned in the direction to where Sam had taken off. His stomach dropped as he realized Sam had run into the cellblock.

-Flash-

_Sam's lifeless eyes…_

-Flash-

"No!" Dean yelled. Forgetting what he was doing, he dropped the lighter fluid and picked up his own weapon, then charged across the clearing towards the cellblock. The door was heavy and squealed painfully as Dean threw it open.

"Sam?" he yelled into the darkness, but was only answered with an echo. "Sammy? You in here?"

"Did you finish him?"

"Ya!" Dean yelled as he spun around. Sam was staring at him. "Man, don't do that to me!"

"Did you finish him?" Sam repeated.

"Um, no, I-" he stopped. Why _hadn't_ he finished it? All he had to do was light the sucker up, but at the sight of Sam running into the cellblock-where he was going to _die_-had stopped him.

"No?! Why not? Are you ok?" Sam asked with sudden concern, giving his brother a quick once-over for injury. What had happened that Dean didn't finish it?

"Sam, we gotta leave here now. Let's go back out. All we have to do is light his bones on fire," Dean said as he turned to run. Sam was now running beside him.

"Dean, what happened? Why didn't you finish it?"

-Flash-

_Sam was yelling something at him, but he couldn't hear past the roaring in his ears…_

-Flash-

Dean stopped running, almost causing Sam to trip. "Sam, get out of here. Go to the grave and torch those remains," he said through clenched teeth.

"Dean? What's going on?" Sam was confused, couldn't understand what was going on with Dean.

Suddenly it hit him, Dean's vision. This must be it, he thought. Without another word, he turned to run out the door when suddenly he was thrown into an open cell, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as he watched in horror. Running up to the cell, he glanced at the unmoving figure on the floor. Sam had been thrown against the wall and had slid down until he was seated next to the bed, slumped over. Dean couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

"Now, time fer you. You tried ta kill me, somethin' I won't take lightly."

Dean turned slowly and found himself staring straight into the empty eyes of Tony. "Dude, you're already dead-" Dean's joke was cut off as the ghost grabbed him by his throat and lifted him off the ground. He struggled to keep a hold of the rifle, but when he tried to bring it up so he could use it, his already numb fingers slipped and the gun fell uselessly to the ground. With no other option, he grabbed the arm that was holding him and began to claw, shuddering as flakes of skin began to shed off under his nails. Stars burst in front of his eyes and he was close to losing his grip on consciousness. When did ghosts become so fucking powerful??

"Put…him…down!" came a raspy yell from below. The blast of the shot gun echoed through the prison walls as rock salt sailed through the ghost, scattering it. A rush of air filled Dean's lungs as he was dropped to the ground.

"Hey…hey…you ok?" Sam said, crawling up next to him, checking him out.

"Me?" Dean gasped, and began to cough. His voice came out low and rough, and his throat was on fire. "How about _gasp_ you?"

"I'm fine. For once I wasn't the one getting the life choked out of me. Can you stand?"

"Smart _gasp_ ass. Yeah, I _gasp cough_ think so."

"Good, I think we need to get out of here."

"I second that."

As they left the cellblock, they heaved a sigh of relief to see the prison guards weren't back yet. Whatever Jessica had them doing was keeping them busy.

"Let's fry the bastard!" Dean yelled, ignoring the twinge in his throat as he picked up the lighter fluid and headed towards the open grave.

"Um, Sam?" he said as soon as he had reached it.

"What?"

"The son of a bitch is gone."

-

"What the hell happened in there Dean? Where did the remains go?!"

"How the hell should I know Sam? We're going to head back to the motel, and regroup." Already this job was getting old, and Dean wasn't too fond of being in the prison at the moment when they had no idea what was going on. How many times were they going to have to regroup? His hand came up unconsciously to rub at the still raw skin of his throat.

It was 10:00 by the time they had finished refilling the grave and headed back to the room. They had been amazed that the cops had never returned. They had been in the room for five minutes when a soft knock sounded at their door. Jessica smiled brightly at Dean as he opened the door.

"You guys figure it out?" she asked, pushing past Dean and entering the room.

"Sure, come on in," Dean said sarcastically as he closed the door.

"What did you do to keep those guys so busy?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Oh, nothing," she replied innocently. "I just told them that someone had broken into the diner next door. When they came heroically with their guns blazing, I just had to offer them a treat for saving me even though they never did find anything. I made them a free dinner, even included desert. By the time they finished, most of their shifts were over so they decided to head home."

"And that worked?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Small town cops," was all Jessica offered, though it was explanation enough.

"Well, we appreciate your help," Sam replied, grinning. He could just picture all of the cops in the diner eating and Jessica chirping at them about their 'heroics'.

"So, did you guys do what needed to be done?"

"Not exactly, we sort of ran into a problem," Dean replied, his hand rising to rub his neck. It was still sore and he was pretty sure it was going to bruise. Looking over at Sam, it dawned on him that he hadn't checked his brother out to make sure there was no permanent damage from being thrown into a wall. At that moment Sam's eyes met with his, and like always, he could have sworn Sam was reading his mind when he mouthed "I'm fine".

"Oh, you boys didn't get hurt, did you? Holy crap," Jessica said, examining the dark splotches on Dean's throat.

"Nothing a little rest won't fix. Ok, thanks for the help and thanks for stopping by. Bah-bye now," Dean said as he ushered Jessica out of the room.

"Well that was kind of rude, don't you think?" Sam asked as he watched Dean close the door.

"Yeah yeah, now hold still," Dean retorted as he grabbed Sam's head. Sure enough a large lump was forming where Sam's head had hit the wall. Anger flashed through him, when suddenly…

-Flash-

_Sam's lifeless eyes…_

-Flash-

Shaking away the cruel picture that seemed to haunt him, he realized how glad he was to have made it out of there with Sam alive.

"Dude, let go. I told you, I'm fine," Sam protested, batting at Dean's hands.

"You better be. The next time you rush into a building, trapping yourself with a ghost, I'm not coming to save your ass."

Dean sat down on the bed opposite Sam. "Got any other-" Dean was cut off as a sudden ripple of pain arched through his head. "Oh damnit! OW!"

"Dean? Oh shit, Dean," Sam said, dropping down so he could try to get a read on his brother's face. "Take deep breaths Dean, don't fight the pain. Just let it come."

In a haze Dean could hear his brother's words, and he willed himself to follow the instructions he was giving. Instantly the pain lessened a bit, but once again he was no longer in the motel room.

-Flash-

_"He was this close to destroying the remains! How could you let him get that close?! More importantly, it was never in the plan to tell them exactly where the body was! You are such an idiot!"_

"_I…I don't know…I promise it won't happen again. Please! Give me another chance!!"_

"_That's all you have left, one chance. Screw up this time, and you will pay with your life! We cannot afford to lose what we've worked so hard for!"_

"_I know that! Please, it won't happen again!"_

"_For your sake Nick, I hope so!"_

_-_Flash-

Dean sat in shock for a moment, not quite able to comprehend what he had just heard. Through the vision, he had not been able to see anything, he just heard the voices.

"Dean? Hey man, you ok?"

"No…ow…" Dean said, clutching at his head. He had the worst migraine and even talking hurt. The small lamp on the table was giving off way too much light all of a sudden and the slight smell of Sam's soap was making him nauseous.

"What'd you see?"

"Can we talk in a minute?" Dean struggled to stand, and wabbled to the bathroom. Sam offered to help, but stopped when Dean threw him a threatening "don't you dare" look.

Clutching the sink in the bathroom, Dean looked at himself in the mirror. His face was pale and his eyes bloodshot. What was happening to him? He couldn't quite tell, but it seemed his body was weaker than it had been. Chalking it up to the vision, he thought nothing more of it. After a few moments and a few handfuls of water to his face, he re-entered the bedroom. Sam was no where to be found.

"Sam?! Oh for fuck sakes...Sam!!" Dean yelled as his eyes scanned the empty room.

"What? Dean? Are you ok?" Sam came running into the room.

"Damnit Sammy, don't do that to me," Dean almost yelled as he waited for his heart to slow.

"I forgot the laptop in the car, so I went to go get it. Dean, what's going on?"

"I…I don't know. I came out to find you gone and…" Dean would never admit it to Sam, but here he was, about to blurt out that he had panicked. Suddenly it made no sense to him why he had panicked. The front door had been slightly ajar he realized...and the way he had just acted was completely irrational. He was getting...no it couldn't be...was he...emotional?

"And?"

"Nothing, nevermind. Look, it's late. We both need some sleep," Dean said, ending the conversation when he laid down.

Sam glanced at Dean with concern as he laid down on the adjacent bed. Something was wrong, Dean just wasn't being himself. A thought suddenly struck him, and he didn't know why he hadn't thought about it before. What if the visions were hurting Dean? It was just unnatural that Dean should be having them-Sam scoffed at the thought. Hell, it was unnatural that _he_ should be having them. But the thought continued to tug at him, inviting him to further investigate, as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Ok a slight apology for the cop-bashing. None intended lol. I love cops, hell I even respect them. They may act like jackasses sometimes, but hey, if we had to deal with the stupidity that they do on a daily basis I wouldn't be the most pleasant person either haha.

But the cop bashing was too much fun and seemed to fit at the time.

And I realized that I didn't put a little warning on here about Jessica. I didn't intend for her name to be the same as Sam's Jess, I was just basing her off of a friend from home.

Well, I should have the next chapter up tomorrow night. It needs a bit more editing and tomorrow's an early morning for me, but I should be able to put it up easily. I might try to also just put up the remaining chapters tom. night also.

Thanks for reading guys, and I hope you're enjoying yourselves.


	6. And Then There Was One

Sorry for the long delay. I have given up updating daily and promising to do so lol. RL happens...and I hate it haha.

Thank you for all of the reviews...and thanks for reading even if you're a lurker. ;) Please enjoy the next few chapters, there aren't many left. Then we can move onto the sequal...yayness:D

Normal Disclaimer Applies...The Winchester world belongs to the Kripke sandbox...I just like building castles.

Reminders: This is slightly AU from the show...allows me the freedom to bring back dead people, and not have to worry about altering the story line and messing up the current perfection now showing on the CW. There's a bit of language, as I am a potty mouth myself and couldn't help it.

Since it's been so long, here's a little recap:

The visions are starting to take a toll on Dean (he's had another one and won't talk about it...DEAN!!) :D ...and the boys are getting close to figuring out the haunting of the prison.

* * *

Sam glanced at the clock, it was almost 2 in the morning. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, he was so tired but it was Dean's restlessness that had woken him, and he knew sleep wasn't coming any time soon. He was about to go and wake him when suddenly Dean calmed, his body relaxing and his breathing resuming a normal rhythm. Picking up his laptop, he began pointless surfing, not quite looking for any websites in particular.

"Shit, how long have you been up?" Dean grumbled as he rolled over, his eyes remaining shut.

"Uh, not long," Sam lied. "What are you doing up so early?"

Dean moaned as he looked at the clock. It was 6 am. "I have no clue…"

"How are you feeling?"

"Better than you look. We really have to do something about you not sleeping," Dean sighed.

"So, are you ready to talk about-" Sam started, only to be cut off by Dean's hand being waved at him.

"After coffee."

Dean sniffed the air appreciatively as they entered the local coffee house/sandwich/take 'n bake pizza place.

"Morning fellas!" said a long haired girl from behind the counter.

"Morning. Two black coffees, to go please," Sam said.

"Dude…dude…check it out," Dean nudged him. Sam turned to follow Dean's gaze and it rested upon a large paper maché statue sitting on a small white wicker couch. It was an older woman with a coffee cup in one hand, and her other hand rested on a little orange cat.

"That's kind of creepy looking, don't you think?" Dean shuddered.

"You should try closing time here when it's pitch black," the girl smiled as she handed them two cups.

"Thanks," Sam said gratefully.

"I didn't see a whole lot, just two voices talking," Dean said as soon as they were outside, startling and losing Sam for a moment. "But I can tell you one thing, I think we better go back and talk to Nick."

Wincing inwardly, Dean sat down carefully in the driver's seat. Fuck! He couldn't seem to get rid of the headache that had accompanied the last vision even though it had been the night before, and even the old familiar smell of the leather was making him nauseous. What was happening to him? _Maybe it's better that I suffer these visions than Sam_, Dean thought. He had never been able to stand seeing his little brother in pain; he would have gladly taken it any day. _And now I have_, he laughed bitterly.

"What's so funny?" Sam was staring at him.

"Nothing," he replied as he pulled back onto the street and headed towards the flower shop.

The sleek black Impala almost sounded out of place in the quiet morning as it pulled up to the curb. The boys pulled themselves from the deep seats and walked to the front door. "Well that's just great!" Dean said with exasperation as he stared at the 'Closed' sign.

"What does Nick have to do with this?" Sam asked, cupping his hands on the glass and peering into the store.

"Well, I saw, no, more like heard, Nick talking to someone. They weren't too happy about us trying to fry the son of a bitch last night, and I'm almost betting he has something to do with the remains missing."

Sam's jaw dropped. "So we're not just dealing with a spirit anymore? And 'they'?"

"I couldn't quite see who he was talking to, but I recognized Nick's voice."

"Well, maybe we should go back to the prison, you know, see if we missed something."

"Yeah, I guess we could. I'm just getting sick of chasing these damn clues, we aren't the freakin' Scooby gang."

---

"So the remains can't be removed from the prison, right?" Sam said as they finished paying for a second tour. He had a bag of toys slung over his shoulder, once again claiming "better safe than sorry".

"What do you mean?"

"Well, now that Tony has attached himself to the prison, if his remains are removed it might destroy him, or at least weaken him, right?"

"Yeah, but we've never been able to prove that theory. Our usual playmates have always been in graveyards, or at least they've never moved," Dean said, his eyes searching the courtyard as they entered through the gate.

"So we're just going to have to search the prison for where they moved them to."

"That's pretty broad Sam. First, we don't even know who is working with Nick. Second, if they even know about moving the remains."

"Well, it's all we've got for now. We have a better chance of searching during the day anyway."

"Alright. Well, I'll take the front half of the prison, to include the cellblock, and you take the back half to include the guard shack."

After a fruitless hour of walking around the courtyard and not discovering recently disturbed spots, Dean made his way toward the cells. Looking around, he saw no one. The prison wasn't seeing much business today, and he was thankful.

Fingering the small rifle tucked inside his jacket, he once again entered the building. He didn't get two steps inside the room when his vision went haywire. Leaning up against the wall, he waited for the feeling to pass. After a few moments, he felt better. Taking another step he suddenly fell to his knees. He swam in and out of blackness, and all he could hear was his own panicked breathing.

Easing himself back against the wall and sliding to a sitting position, he waited. He leaned his head against the wall, still engulfed in blackness. The cool from the old concrete seemed to help keep him focused. Willing his erratic breathing to slow, his vision slowly came into focus. Shaking his head carefully, he raised his hand to his face, shocked when it came back covered in sweat. Pulling a part of his tee shirt up, he wiped his face. He couldn't let Sam see him like this, whatever this was.

"What the-" Dean asked himself when he spotted the drop of blood on his now-soaked shirt.

Looking into the open cell directly across from him, he spotted a mirror. Carefully he pulled himself to his feet, and taking slow steps he let out a small gasp as he came in front of the mirror. He looked awful, his face a light shade of gray and dark circles appeared under his eyes, which were bloodshot. He also had a small trickle of blood coming from his nose. Taking his tee shirt again, he wiped his nose until the stain was gone. Zipping up his jacket, he walked out of the cell. His rifle lay against the wall. _Must have dropped it_, he thought. Something was happening to him, something he didn't like.

Sighing in relief that no one had walked in during his moment of weakness, he tucked the rifle back into his jacket before zipping it up once again, and walked outside. The courtyard was still empty, except for Sam, who was heading towards him.

"I couldn't find…holy shit, Dean, you feeling alright?" Sam asked, his look of defeat quickly changing to one of concern.

"I'm fine, let's just get out of here." The sun was hurting his eyes, and every little sound echoed painfully in his ears.

They were halfway to the car when the pain struck again; mercilessly clawing it's way through Dean's head. He could see nothing, hear nothing, his world was pain. White hot arcs of pain. It didn't even register that Sam was hoisting him up, half carrying him to the car, calling his name.

_**Flash  
**"So the remains can't be removed from the prison, right?" Sam said as they finished paying for a second tour. He had a bag of toys slung over his shoulder, once again claiming "better safe than sorry".  
_

"_What do you mean?"  
_

"_Well, now that Tony has attached himself to the prison, if his remains are removed it might destroy him, or at least weaken him."  
_

"_Yeah, but we've never been able to prove that theory. Our usual playmates have always been in graveyards, or at least they've never moved." _

_**Flash**_

"_Hey…hey…you ok?" Sam said, crawling up next to him, checking him out.  
_

"_Me? How about you?"  
_

"_I'm fine. For once I wasn't the one getting the life choked out of me. Can you stand?"  
_

"_Smart ass. Yeah, I think so."  
_

"_Good, I think we need to get out of here."  
_

"_I second that."  
_

_As they left the cellblock, they heaved a sigh of relief to see the prison guards weren't back yet. Whatever Jessica had them doing was keeping them busy.  
_

"_Let's fry the bastard!" Dean yelled as he picked up the lighter fluid and headed towards the open grave.  
_

"_Um, Sam?" he said as soon as he had reached it.  
_

"_What?"  
_

"_The bastard's gone."_

**_Flash_**

The visions were coming, hard and fast, and not making any sense.

_**Flash  
**"Dr. Miller."  
_

"_Hey Doc, it's Sam."  
_

"_Sam? Sam Winchester? Well how the hell are ya!"  
_

"_Good. Hey, I need to ask a favor. How much do you know about electrical currents and their effect on the brain?"  
_

"_Wow. Right to business, you guys must be knee deep in trouble again. Why do you ask?"  
_

"_Well, as you know for a while I've been having these visions."  
_

"_Yes, Dean told me when he called last time."  
_

"_Yesterday, Dean and I both got electrocuted, and we were both touching. Now I think Dean's having the visions."  
_

"_You both got…holy cow…you guys alright?"  
_

"_Yeah, we're both fine. But this morning Dean had a vision, and for the first time in months I slept pretty deep."  
_

"_What'd he see?"  
_

"_He's not sharing, but I know the signs of a vision better than anyone. Think you can help?"  
_

"_Well, give me a couple hours. I'll do some research, call some contacts and see what I can come up with. I'll give you a call back in a few hours. Sam?"  
_

"_Yeah?"  
_

"_Be careful."  
_

"_Thanks Doc."_

_**Flash**_

They were the past, events that had already happened. Every vision was accompanied with a fresh wave of pain and a burst of colors, until Dean could stand no more. He surrendered to the darkness.

---

Sam paced the short length of the motel room, his eyes flickering nervously to the still form on the bed. Dean's sudden collapse had made Sam panic...something was horribly wrong. At first he thought it might be a vision. But when he had rolled Dean over on the street he knew it was something else. Dean's face was a deeper shade of gray, and the dark circles had deepened. And he had not moved since Sam had brought him back.

He had not been ready to leave the prison, but seeing the state his older brother had been in and hearing him ask to leave, he had not given it a second thought. Running his hands through his hair, he didn't know where to turn to next. Together they could come up with a solution for almost any problem that came their way...but this time nothing was coming to Sam.

Sitting down on the opposite bed, Sam willed his brother awake. _At least make a noise or move_, Sam pleaded. Nothing. Suddenly, his vision began to blur. Sam closed his eyes, and realized he was close to crying. With an disgusted sniff, Sam blinked until the unshed tears dried. He refused to allow himself to wallow in a moment of weakness.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he knew who he had to call.

"Hello?"

"Missouri?"

"Sam? Oh sugar, what's wrong?"

"It's Dean. Something went wrong-"

"And now he's having your visions?" Missouri finished.

"You can read energies over the phone?" Sam was surprised.

"Not usually, but you're putting out quite a bit of energy, I could feel you before you even picked up the phone. Now why don't you tell me exactly what happened?" Silence greeted him on the other end as he finished the recount of the past few days.

"Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry," Missouri said, her voice filled with sadness.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Honey, that never should have happened. That's the first case I've ever heard of, the transfer. It's never been done before. I can just tell you that I don't think it should have happened and I think Dean's in trouble."

They had been so busy fighting the spirit in the prison, neither of them had considered the consequences of Dean having the visions. It was just another thing they were going to solve and get over with, once the prison was done of course.

"_Job comes first Sammy," Dean had said, clapping then-eleven year old Sam on the back._

The simple statement had been repeated time and time again to Sam by the other two Winchesters, and never did he feel such regret for following that mantra like he did now.

"What...what do you mean? How is Dean in trouble?"

"Well, Sam, you know how painful those pesky visions are. Well, in your case, they're not as bad as they could be. See, you were meant to have those visions, um...you were sort of built for them. I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense right now, but you're more able to stand them. Dean? He wasn't made to have those visions. Sam, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid each time he has one, it's doing more and more physical damage."

"Wait, so the visions are killing him?!" Sam was near panic. Dean was in danger once again because of him. How much more could he take? Could Dean take? How much before they were all dead?

"Sam, you stop those thoughts right now!" Missouri yelled. "Now I'll have none of that. You pitying yourself isn't helping your brother, we'll figure out a way to fix this."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I have never heard of this kind of situation before. You Winchesters, I swear. I'm blaming ever grey hair I get on you. But, I know of one ritual that may help."

_--AN-I scoured the internet for an actual ritual, and all I found was a bunch of crap, and a page that sold genies (yeah, Aladdin-type genies, honestly, how do I get that page when I search for rituals?!) and some pages that downright scared me, so I'm going to make up a ritual. Oh yeah!!--_

"What else is going on?" Missouri asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Why were you boys even in that prison?"

"Well, apparently one of the prisoner's spirits is starting a riot, and it's killed people," Sam's eyes flicked nervously to his brother. Why would Missouri care so much about the job?

"Because Sam, you still have a job to do and your brother is going to be fine," Missouri chided.

"What do you mean? Do you know for sure Dean's going to be ok?" Sam was suddenly filled with hope. Missouri knew something.

"Sam, his body has gone into sort of a protection mode. Subconsciously, he realized he couldn't handle the visions and they were killing him. So his body shut down-"

That was not what Sam wanted to hear. "What do you mean? His body is going to kill itself instead?" Leave it to Dean to take to dramatics.

"Sam, calm down. I didn't mean to upset you. No, I don't think he can have visions this way, so in an attempt to block the visions he has simply knocked himself out. Sam, honey, Dean's safe."

Sam let out a shaky breath and sat down on the untaken bed. This was getting to be too much.

"Now Sam, don't you go and get discouraged. You need to finish this job. It's going to take me a while to prepare for the ritual anyway."

"You can do it from where you're at when we're all the way up here?"

"Yes, I'm just that good."

Hanging up, Sam felt better. He glanced at Dean again, and felt a rush of relief. Dean's color was returning and he looked peaceful. Sam still couldn't shake the feeling of guilt; his visions were destroying his brother. Shaking his head, he stuffed the guilt down until it left a bitter pool in his stomach. He had no time to dwell on himself, Dean needed him.

He had no clue just how wrong Missouri was.

---

_He felt warm. He felt safe. He felt completely relaxed. It was dark, but the dark was calm, inviting. There was no pain here, no worry, no anxiety. He never wanted to leave._

_But something was tugging at him. Something he couldn't ignore. Something was wrong. The thought invaded his peace and left him cold. There was a reason he couldn't stay here, he had to get out._

Sammy.

_His brother's name echoed in the blackness, and he knew what he had to do.  
_

_Before he could fight his way back to awareness, a rainbow of colors suddenly burst in front of him. They began to swirl and dance, creating a chaotic kaleidoscope any five year old would be proud to call artwork. Then, the colors settled, and began to form a picture.  
_

_Sam stood in front of him, staring down at him. "I'm sorry Dean, I'll make this right, I promise."_

What right? Sam, what's going on? _he wanted to yell, but he couldn't seem to find his voice and make it work._

_Suddenly he was standing in the prison...in the cell block. Fuck...no...Sam..._

_"You've caused enough trouble you ugly son of a bitch. Time to put you out of your misery!" Sam yelled, running past him. A large black cloud followed, and it was gaining. Something was wrong though, Sam seemed injured. He was slightly hunched, a pinched look on his face. _

Sam! Sammy! Look out!! _Dean tried desperately, but it was no use. He was just here to watch, and that thought scared him.  
_

_The cloud began to close in on Sam, when suddenly the young hunter dove to the ground. In one smooth, graceful motion he pulled the rock salt-filled rifle from his coat, and shot the cloud. With a hiss, the cloud dispersed. Pulling himself to his feet once again, Sam continued to run. Reaching the last cell, he ducked inside.  
_

_Curiosity overtaking his concern, Dean followed. Sam was inside the cell, hacking away at the wall with a pick. The concrete finally gave away, revealing a box. Without wasting a second, Sam jerked the box from the wall and threw it on the ground. Opening the box, he began to pour salt and lighter fluid at the same time. Dean crept closer and peered into the box. Bones lay inside. Dean grinned, now this was the kind of vision he liked having. Sam had figured it out, and was kicking ass._ That's my boy, _Dean cheered. _

Suddenly the black cloud was back with a vengeance. Sam had just pulled the lighter from his pocket when it attacked. No! _Dean screamed as the cloud engulfed his brother, lifting him off the ground. Sam gasped as it settled around his throat. With one last breath, he flicked the lighter and dropped the flame into the box. The cloud screamed as it dispersed one final time. Sam was dropped to the ground, and Dean knew he wasn't breathing. Dean struggled to get to his brother, but the more he ran, the farther away he seemed. Then, darkness settled once more._

* * *

So...a bit of a cliffy lol. But I have the documents uploaded...so it shouldn't take that long to update... 

You know...I'm so friggin' critical of my own work. I was reading this back over and was like "I wrote this??!" :D It's been a while since I've written it, and I think my skills have improved a bit since then. But I have to post this in order to post it's sequals..so eh what the hell:D

So I guess if you leave a review, let me know what you honestly think lol. I take constructive critism as well...

And the action is about to get amped up, so stay tuned... :)


	7. Regaining Momentum

Screw it, I decided to upload 7 too since it's been a long time since I updated. Enjoy guys!!

Another warning...Sam's a little mad and he's swearing a bit.

* * *

Sam looked up from the laptop in concern when Dean began to moan. Startled, he saw his brother was actually smiling. "Dean?" As soon as the smile appeared it was gone, and Dean looked peaceful once again.

Without a second thought, Sam knew what he had to do. Quickly he gathered what supplies he thought he would need. Soon, salt was spread in thick lines in front of the window sills and the doorways, and his brother was in a protective circle of crystals. He silently thanked Missouri for the crystals, as he was taking no chances. He was ready. He would do this. For Dean.

"Sam!" Sam spun around, and was startled to see Dean sitting up in bed.

"Dean? Shit, man, hey, are you ok?" Sam rushed to him, careful not to disturb the salt. Dean's eyes were wild and unfocused.

Dean looked confused, as if he was trying to remember something. He shook his head, and fought the darkness that was threatening to pull him back in. "Sam...stay away from the prison."

"But Dean-"

"No buts asshole...you go there...and that ghost chokes you...I'm not saving your ass." The clouded look returned to Dean's normally crystal clear irises, and he lowered himself back onto the pillow. Within moments he was asleep again.

It took a moment for it to dawn on him, but he knew exactly what Dean was trying to tell him. "I'll have to keep in mind, that once again, something's out to strangle me," Sam chuckled as he quirked an eyebrow at his brother. This was a never ending joke. For some reason, most of the things they hunted, wanted to deprive Sam of oxygen. "I'm sorry Dean, I'll make this right, I promise," he said, filled with a new strength. Becoming serious once more, he gathered up his supplies and left the motel, locking it up tightly.

Walking across the parking lot, Sam sighed as he reached the Impala. He was not used to driving it with out Dean, and wasn't sure if he ever wanted to. It just seemed _wrong_. Throwing his bag on the passenger side, he climbed behind the wheel with a new defiance. He was going to beat this thing, and save his brother. Following the only lead he had, he headed towards the flower shop.

---

'Closed'

The sign taunted him. Securing his rifle in the back of his jeans, not wanting to chance the ghost showing up, and headed towards the alley. He was going in the back door. Once again he was glad security was a little more lax in this small town. Picking the lock he stepped inside and grimaced, even in the back storage room he could hear the country music coming from the front counter.

This time it was different...someone was singing along.

"Son of a bitch," Sam muttered as he headed towards the source of the singing.

Sure enough Nick stood in front of a fridge, arranging flowers.

"Aren't you ever open anymore?" Sam asked, startling the store owner.

"Who-" Nick's eyes widened at the sight of Sam. "What the hell are you doing here? How the fuck did you get in here?" Nick demanded, his face growing red.

"I'm looking for answers, and how about we don't lie through our ass this time?" Sam demanded in return. He was angry, and he realized he was beginning to sound like Dean. Dean would never have to know that he was using his lines however.

"Look, I told you everything you wanted to know last time. You're not a reporter, are you?"

"Congratulations Sherlock, you win a prize. How about you tell me the whole truth this time?"

"You better leave, before I call the cops," Nick said nervously, his anger gone as he realized it paled in comparison to the raging inferno in front of him. He began to back towards the counter, trying to determine if his horribly out of shape body would make it through the door before the obviously fit man caught and killed him. He turned and stepped off in a sprint, but didn't get very far.

Running out of patience, Sam jumped on the man, and pinned him up against the wall.

"Ok ok ok, what do you want to know?" the man pleaded. He didn't like the look in Sam's eyes.

"What the fuck did you do with Tony Millhen's remains?"

"I don't know-" Nick's cry was interrupted as his head slammed into the wall.

"Let's try again dickhead. What did you do with Tony's remains?"

"We moved them. You guys were going to destroy them. We couldn't let you."

"Who?"

"I-" Sam shook the man again.

"Who?!"

"My brother and I, we couldn't let you," Tony said, he was scared for his life now. Gone was the calm man he had met the day before. The Sam in front of him was pissed.

"Why not?"

"Because...he's our father."

"Your...your father?" That answer had honestly thrown Sam off. "But your father was Storm-"

"No, he wasn't. That's what everyone believed, including me. My mom actually had an affair, and ta-da, here I am. And well, I'll be you can guess who she had an affair with."

Sam eased his grip on the older man. "You realize that's not your father anymore. Your father died the day they shot him."

"No! Those bastards killed him! And for what? He was doing what was right!"

Suddenly Nick pushed Sam, catching him by surprise. Sam steadied himself just to see the middle-aged man rush at him. Ducking, he caught Nick by his upper thighs and brought him crashing down.

Sam jumped up, readying himself for another attack. It never came. Instead the man lay on the ground, looking defeated and humiliated.

"I never even knew I had a brother until last year," Nick wailed. "It was then that I knew the truth."

Reaching down, Sam helped the now crying man to his feet. Taking a deep breath, Sam let it out slowly. He had to get better control of himself. He didn't do anger well. Smiling slightly, he turned to the man with what Dean called his 'puppy dog look'. "Tell me everything."

---

Sam stepped out of the flower shop, his mind forming a plan with his newly acquired information.

When Tony's wife had left town, she had taken what she thought was Tony's only son with her. Years later, that son, Evan, had returned. Finding Tony, they had cope up with a plan. They were going to get their father back and exact revenge on those that had wronged their family. Sam shook his head. And he thought his family had parental issues.

Nick had clammed up about where he had hid the remains. Sam shook his head, he should have stayed angry. As soon as he had stopped threatening the man, Nick had found his second wind and was being defiant. As soon as Sam had asked about the remains for the third time, his patience growing dangerously thin, he could have sworn a look of complete fear passed over Nick's face.

Sitting in the Impala, Sam realized he had no idea where to go from here. Normally, he had no problem figuring out something, anything, this time, he could think of nothing. He was drawing a complete blank.

_Geez Sam, what exactly did four years of college do for you?_ He laughed, he could hear Dean taunting him even now.

_Dean_. Focusing on his brother, he pulled the sleek black car around, headed towards the diner.

Parking the car underneath the overhang, Sam got out. Suddenly, he felt odd, like he was being watched. His instincts kicked in and his body tensed. Spinning around, he saw a large set of knuckles. It was too late, he was unable to move fast enough to clear his head completely from the path of the descending fist. The knuckles connected with his forehead, sending him crashing against the car.

Before he could recover, large hands were grabbing his shoulders and dragging him where he soon he found himself behind the diner. The large hands released him, sending him flying against the wall. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he stared the brut down. With out a doubt, this had to be Evan.

"So, you think you can go around beating my bro up?" he grunted, a thick New York accent graced his words. He was probably an inch or so taller than Sam, but easily had an extra 75 pounds of muscle on him. His head was bald, every patch of hair shaved clean off. So many tattoos covered his arms that not an inch of skin showed.

"Maybe you and your brother should not play with things you don't know about," Sam fired back. Evan began to advance on him again.

"Why you little shit...are you calling us stupid?" he roared.

"Well, some things go with out saying," Sam taunted. He didn't care anymore. This man was to blame for everything. He was the whole reason they'd gone into that stupid prison in the first place, where they'd been zapped, where Dean had inherited his visions. Just because Evan and his brother just had to have a family reunion. He was angry. He knew the guy was probably going to pound him into the ground, but he didn't care.

Sam ducked, and Evan's fist met the wall. Down on his haunches, he leapt, catching the much bigger man around the middle.

"Oomph," Evan grunted as they went down. Sam raised his fist in the air, and had every intention of bringing it down on his opponent's face, but he didn't make it that far. The guy was quick. All Sam saw was sky, then grass. Pain shot through his shoulder as he hit the ground, and stars danced in front of his eyes, he was pretty sure his head had found the only rock in the alley. Pain shot through his abused shoulder again as he was lifted up. Grabbing onto his attacker's arm, he jammed his knee as hard as he could into Evan's gut, receiving another "Oomph."

As soon as he was dropped, he tucked his body and rolled, coming up behind Evan. Laughing, he pushed the already off balanced foe, and his head met with the wall of the diner.

Sam was getting entirely too much enjoyment from this scuffle, and he wondered if he was going insane. Adrenaline was pumping, and he was feeling cocky.

"Oh, you think that's funny? Well come here tough guy!" Evan rushed him, and he tried to duck again, but the heavier man anticipated the reaction. His fist connected with Sam's temple, sending him to the ground again, dazed.

Sam jumped back up to his feet, and the two fighters began to move in a slow, wary circle. They were sizing each other up, looking for points of weakness. Sam was being pathetically underestimated, and he knew it. This guy had no clue what Sam was capable of.

Evan let out a roar and rushed the young hunter, his fist preparing to once again meet his face. Sam grabbed the fist meant for his head and spun, using Evan's own momentum to take him down.

He hit the ground, but didn't stay there long. Soon he was charging at Sam again, tackling him. Both men hit the ground, and Sam found himself winded and dazed. Evan jumped to his feet having every intention of beating the life out of Sam.

"Sam!" came a cry, it sounded so far away. Next thing he knew, he was staring at Evan's unconscious form lying next to him, and it was slightly twitching.

"Oh my God, are you ok? Holy crap, he was beating the tar out of you!" the voice said, and suddenly he was being pulled to his feet. Jessica stood there, and clutched in her limp hand was the stun gun.

"You're going to kill someone with that thing, give it to me," Sam grunted as he took the gun. Wasting no time, he grabbed Jessica's hand and made a dash for the Impala. "Get in."

Not wanting to head back to the motel and put Dean in danger, Sam began to aimlessly drive around the small town. He had to think. First, this wasn't just about busting a ghost anymore, now he had to fight two brothers. Second, he still had no clue where the remains had gone. They could be anywhere in that prison.

"Sam, where are we going? What's going on? Who was that?" Jessica fired questions at him faster than he could come up with answers. "Sam." she said quietly, and gently laid her hand on his arm. "Sam, let's go to my house."

Following her directions, they were soon pulling up in front of a two story Victorian house. It even had a picket white fence. Sam smiled sadly, it was something him and his brother would never know. A small golden collie mix ran excitedly up and down the fence line, barking at the visitors.

"Bruno, hush!" Jessica gently chided, rousing another excited bark from the canine. "He's really nice, don't worry."

"Jessica, is everything ok?" asked an elderly lady as she came out of the house. Bruno ran to the woman and plopped down at her feet, his gaze still studying their visitor. "Who's your friend?"

"This is a student teacher from the school, he's going to give me some extra help for next week's test. This is Sam. Sam, this is my mom."

"Nice to meet you," Sam smiled gently as he shook the woman's hand, his mind spinning. The teen in front of him was as good as cover stories as Dean.

"Ok, so we're gonna head out to the back yard, ok?" Jessica said as she pulled Sam through the house.

There wasn't much to the back yard. Trees lined the back fence, red and orange leaves clung to the branches, swaying slightly in the breeze. The grass was already yellow from the cold. Jessica plopped down into one of the lawn chairs, inviting Sam to sit next to her.

"Sam, what's going on? Who was that? Are you ok? Where's Dean?" the questions came once again.

"Yeah, I'm fine. That was Evan Millhen." Jessica's eyes widened, but she remained silent. "He wasn't too happy about Dean and me poking around."

"We should call the cops."

"No, no, it'll be alright." The last thing he needed was to involve the law. "I need to find those fucking remains!" His eyes met Jessica's, and he uttered an apology.

"That's alright, my dad's a trucker. So, um, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think it's time you told me everything? I mean, I am helping after all. And I saved your butt," she winked as she said the last statement.

Sam smiled, refusing to think of Dean. He had to trust Missouri now, and keep his end of the bargain with finishing the job. He wanted the hunt to be finished by the time Dean was better, so they could get the hell out of there. He also refused to think that he had anything to prove...certainly not to himself.

Taking a deep breath, he told Jessica the gist of what he and Dean did, and told her a limited amount of the newest hunt. Not once did her eyes ever take on a look of surprise or shock, not once did she call Sam crazy.

"I knew it," she said when he was finished. "I knew that kind of stuff was out there."

"Look, Jessica, I really appreciate your help, I do. But I don't think I can involve you anymore. You saw the size of the guy trying to beat me up. It's just not safe anymore." He lowered his head and began to rub his temples. He just needed time to think.

"So what, you intend to rush into this thing on your own? Sam, let me help. I'll do anything."

Sam's head snapped up as an idea made itself known. "Anything?" he repeated.

"Yes, of course. I sort of…well…I don't know how to explain it. I guess you and your brother have sort of got a spot in my heart now, it would suck if anything happened to either of you."

Sam laughed. Oh the comments that would be flying out of his brother's mouth right now. This had to be the most 'chick' of all moments. But Sam welcomed it.

"I need to ask a big favor of you then."

"Anything," she repeated.

_---_

_He was floating again, peaceful, happy. He felt no pain; he could stay in that soft blackness forever. Once again, something began to tug at him._

Sammy.

_This time, he felt no need to come back. He knew Sam was doing just fine, he wasn't sure how, he could just feel it. And something more was telling him to stay where he was.  
_

_Maybe just a peek, he thought, just to make sure.  
_

_Crawling through the darkness, he slowly came to awareness. He expected to hear the soft typing of the keys on his brother's beloved laptop, the tv, or at least the soft snoring of his brother sleeping next to him.  
_

_He heard nothing. Damnit, he remembered telling Sam about the ghost...and the choking...and he thought he had told his brother to stay there. He couldn't remember all that was said, but he was pretty sure Sam would never leave him alone.  
_

_Panic began to slightly set in as he confirmed that he was indeed alone in the room. Peeking his eyes open, he looked around the room. The light was faint, indicating it was late afternoon.  
_

_Then, something else hit him.  
_

_He had to pee._

Sighing, he opened his eyes all the way. It wasn't as painful as he thought it was going to be. Slowly, he sat up. No waves of dizziness, no feeling of nausea, so far so good. Glancing around the room, he noted the salt on the floor. At least Sam hadn't left him completely vulnerable.

Before he knew it, he was on his feet, and taking shaky steps towards the bathroom. He leaned his head against the cool tile of the room as he completed his business, ignoring the slightly sticky feeling of something growing on the wall.

Keys rattled in the door. The hinges groaned as the door to the room was opened.

Dean's eyes widened as he hurried to finish. It would be just his luck to get attacked while in the bathroom. Pulling a knife stashed between the towels stacked on the back of the toilet, he glanced around the corner, catching the reflection of the door in the mirror.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sam was saying. Sighing in relief, Dean finished, just in time to hear an "Oh shit, Dean?"

Coming out of the bathroom, he started to say "Relax boy wonder-" but was stopped as he realized Sam was not alone. _Thank God I'm still wearing boxers and a shirt at least_, he thought.

"Dean? What are you doing up? You should be in bed," Sam said as he stepped forward. Dean waved him off as he sat back in the bed.

"I feel fine princess. What's she doing here?" he asked, nodding towards Jessica.

"_She_ has come to help," Jessica said as she stepped forward.

"Oh really?" Dean asked as he focused on Sam again.

"Dean? How are you feeling?" Sam still couldn't believe Dean was sitting up, talking to him. He thought for sure his brother was down for the count. Then again Dean always was the strong one.

"Sam, I'm fine. Don't I look ok?"

"Actually, you look like crap."

"Thanks man."

"You're welcome."

"So, you said you needed my help?" Jessica eagerly interrupted them.

"Crap," Dean muttered, suddenly holding his head.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Sam gasped.

"Nothing, I just…there's something I'm forgetting…something important." Dean struggled as he tried to remember. Something had happened, he felt the need to warn Sam. He just couldn't remember what it was. The harder he tried, the more his head ached. But he had to remember, he had the feeling it was something important. Something in his brain screamed at him to stop, but he just had to remember.

Pain over took him once again.

_**Flash  
**"Those bastards, they'll pay," Tony said as he paced his cell. Dean noticed it was the same cell he had seen Sam in…_  
**_Flash_**

Tony's cell…Sam destroying the remains…they had to be in Tony's cell! It all came back to him in a tidal wave of emotions and jumbled pictures. He suddenly felt weak, and sick. The vision he'd had when he'd fought to stay awake to warn Sam, he couldn't let his brother die.

He could no longer hold himself up. Sam was at his side instantly, watching in horror as blood began to leak from Dean's nose.

"Dean, stop, whatever you're forgetting, it's not that important!" Sam pleaded.

"His cell…check Tony's cell…" Dean mumbled before he slumped forward, unconscious once more.

"What's going on? Oh my God Sam, what's happening?"

Sam had forgotten about Jessica.

"Jessica, just…just go to the bathroom, grab a towel will you?" Sam grunted as he tried to lay Dean down. Jessica returned with the towel, she had slightly dampened it. Giving her a grateful look, Sam accepted the warm towel and began to wipe the blood off of Dean's face while trying to staunch the steady flow. When he was sure it had stopped, he straightened.

With a sigh he threw the towel as hard as he could against the wall. Jessica watched the towel hit the wall with a sickening _smack_, and turned back to Sam. He was standing with one hand on his hip, while the other slowly scratched the back of his head. Not wanting to break his concentration, she stayed silent. Suddenly she remembered what Dean had said before he passed out.

"What was he saying about Tony's cell?" Jessica asked, staring down at Dean with concern. Something bad was going on, something that was hurting this hunk, and she didn't like it.

"Thank you Dean," Sam smiled. Walking over to his jacket, he pulled the print out they'd gotten from the police station. Tony Millhen had resided in cell 14A.

"Remember when I said I needed your help?"

"I'll do anything," Jessica repeated.

"I need you to watch over Dean for me. Do you know how to use a shot gun?"

"Dude, I live in Montana," Jessica rolled her eyes. "I knew how to use one of those before I could walk. But why would you want me to use it here? And you want me to baby sit? Sam, I can help you! Let me come with!!"

"Believe me Jessica, you are helping. I'll get distracted if you go with, and if I'm having to worry about Dean. This way, I know he's in good hands. Please?"

Sam's eyes softened and he jutted out his lower lip in an exaggurated pout, then he smiled. He watched Jessica's determination to go with him melt, and she nodded. She swore her heart had stopped beating when Sam had looked at her like that, with those pleading eyes. How could she resist? Honestly, how could anyone resist either of the brothers?

"Oh, ok. What do I need a gun for? And, Sam, what's with all the salt?" Jessica asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Protection."

Jessica's eyes widened, but she nodded, not wanting to know.

* * *

Ok, that's all I've got for now. There's about two full chapters left. Thanks for reading guys.


	8. In The Midst of Victory

Ok, so I've lost my internet access at my house...but no fear. Shhhh...I'm updating at work lol. Let the phones ring...let the people get in line...heh heh heh...

Thanks again for all of the awesome reviews. I do plan on replying during my last update (the next one) so don't think I haven't noticed all of you awesome ppl. :)

Just a reminder...I made Missouri's ritual up myself...so don't laugh if it sounds silly haha. I did some research and pieced things together...As always, do be careful if you plan on using the first one lol...don't really return damage to anyone... o.O

* * *

Missouri smiled and looked at all of the supplies laid out before her. This was a new one to put in the books. She decided to take a few rituals and put them together, creating her own. _Maybe I should name this after myself_, she thought, chuckling to herself. 

Humming softly, she began to mix the ingredients together. She decided this was a delicate situation, and required natural ingredients.

Taking some crushed calendula she added it to the pot. These boys were going to need some help healing, she could feel it. Next came generous helpings of anise seed oil, dried butterfly weed, and a bit of pinkroot, and a powdered skullcap. All of these aided in healing and were believed to induce visions, Missouri just hoped it would be enough.

Adding a bit of purified water, she began to mix the ingredients, her humming continued. As the mixture began to paste, she began to hum louder. Finishing the mixing and the humming, she pulled out her map on which she had Deer Lodge, MT circled. Pulling out her phone, she dialed Sam's number.

w-w

Sam stood in front of the prison, unsure about what to do next. Dean had said the bones were in the cell, but where could they have been? The cells held little more than a bed and toilet, not exactly the best hiding spot for a box of bones. The thought also made Sam a little nervous. The brother's had unknowingly moved their father into where he'd be strongest, where he was tied to in the world of the living.

Climbing slowly from the car, he inhaled the crisp night air, and slowly let it out, watching for a moment as his breath became visable in a cloud of mist and floated towards the sky.

Taking another deep breath to calm his racing heart, he unlocked the trunk and he pulled out the usual ghost busting tools, as well as a pick. He feared he was going to have to do some digging, and there was nothing to dig but cement blocks. Once again he shoved the rock salt rifle into his coat, fingering the cold barrel, letting its familiar coolness calm him.

His phone rang, jerking him out of his thoughts.

"Missouri?"

"Sam, how's Dean?"

"Not well. He woke up, then had another vision and is out again."

"That's good."

"How so?"

"We need Dean out for this one. Sam, what are you doing right now?"

"Nothing," he easily said. Truth was at the moment he _really was_ doing nothing...he was just standing there...Quickly before she could read into him, he asked, "Why?"

She must have believed him because she continued. "This ritual isn't going to be a pleasant one, and you're going to need to recuperate after it, you and Dean."

"So you had to hit us with one of those, huh?"

"I mean it Sam, this is probably going to hurt you the most."

"What makes you say that?"

"You know all those visions Dean had? Now this isn't concrete, but I think you're going to be hit with all of them at once."

"Whatever it takes Missouri."

"So you're ready."

Sighing, Sam looked up at the dark prison. "I'm ready." Hopefully he could destroy the ghost before the ritual took it's toll.

"Sam, what's wrong? If you're not ready-"

"Nothing...no, I'm ready...I'm just not looking forward to it is all. But it has to be done...so don't hold back."

As soon as the call ended, Missouri had a sudden feeling of hesitation, something wasn't right. Sam had said he was ready, but what was wrong? Maybe she was just feeling guilt over what she was about to do to the boys. This was not going to be easy. For a moment she thought about calling Sam back. She had sensed something when he had said he was ready, but she wasn't quite able to grasp the feeling enough to examine it, which was odd. To her dismay, she was just going to have to trust him, and hope that he wasn't doing something foolish.

Adding a bit more water to the paste, she began to hum once more. Soon, the concoction was mixed again, this time it had the consistency of tomato soup.

Missouri chuckled at her musings. She should never have skipped dinner.

"Thinking of him, but just the same, returns this spell, from whence it came. Upon their safety, I do hold, send the damage, and return threefold!"

Shaking the guilt that accompanied that last phrase, knowing she was directing the damage back to Sam, she continued:

"Hail, Guardians of the Watchtowers of the North, Powers of Earth. There stands one in need of protection of her body. Let the dark of midnight shroud them in protection, let the Oak tree ground them to Mother Earth, let the northern wind keep them from all harm."

She wanted to add the last part to protect Sam. Now came the last part, she needed to heal the brothers.

Lighting a small blue candle, she began to softly chant, "I hold you in my heart and wrap you in my love. My circle of protection descends now from above. And as I send this energy, all pain shall disappear. The emptiness I now replace with fresh vitality, so you may thrive upon the Earth in laughter, love and glee. Bright blessings and good health, my friends, encase you from now on. I ask that they watch over you and keep you well and strong."

Blowing the candle out, she watched almost mesmerized as the soft tendrils of smoke began to form around the blackened wick. Closing her eyes in a silent prayer, she hoped it was enough.

w-w

Sam swept through the dark courtyard. It had been easy to pick the lock, and sneak in. He ran almost at a crouch, his gun held at ready. He reached the cellblock with no problem, but he couldn't seem to quell the uneasy feeling.

Suddenly it hit him, making him suddenly nauseous. He was out here, all alone, about to face a riot of angry ghosts. What the hell had he been thinking? What had made him do this? He knew Missouri was completing the ritual, he would be in trouble soon. He couldn't believe his own foolishness. He would never hear the end of this from Dean. Dean was going to ring his neck. _Dean_.

At the thought of his brother, dying, his anger was suddenly sparked again, reminding him why he had to do this on his own. It was his own stupid visions that had almost killed Dean, and he had to make up for that. And if Dean's vision was true, then that meant they didn't have a whole lot of time to waste. He had to finish this...now.

Once again filled with confidence, Sam crept inside the prison. It was too quiet.

Chanting filled the darkness, chasing away the silence, echoing off the walls. Sam strained to hear whatever it was that was being said, but couldn't make out any of the words. Smiling, he'd recognize that voice anywhere, it was Missouri. His smile left as soon as it had come, it only meant he had no time.

Staying in the shadows, he made his way towards cell 14A. A chill made its way up his spine, and he turned in time to see a dark figure looming over him.

"Damn!" he spat as he scrambled backwards. It was Tony.

The chanting stopped, and the prison suddenly exploded, lights and colors swirled in front of Sam, and pain followed. This pain was worse than any he had ever felt. He thought one vision was bad, he now knew what it was like when multiple visions forced their way into his head. Crying out, he fell to his knees. He wanted to die. He didn't honestly think he could handle it.

"What's wrong with him Pa?" Evan said, coming up to stand behind the ghost. His chest still hurt from the shot of electricity earlier, and he gladly would kill Sam right here and now.

"How the hell should I know boy?" Tony replied, turning his attention from the boy writing on the floor. "But he looks like he won't be gettin' in our way. Did you bring them?"

"Nick, bring 'em." was his response. Nick stepped forward, clutched in his arms was crudely constructed wooden box.

"Think it'll be enough?" Evan asked, showing his father the contents.

"That depends, how many graves did you visit?"

"Um, close to forty. And they were all prisoners with you."

"Do you have the book?" the ghost asked, turning his attention to his youngest son.

"Yes father," Nick said eagerly.

Sam forced himself to open his eyes; he had to know where his enemy was. In reality, he didn't have to worry. None of the figures were paying any attention to him after his collapse. He watched as they formed a small circle over a box. As soon as they began to chant, Sam realized what they were trying to do.

They were trying to bring Tony back.

He had seen such a ritual before. If enough souls were gathered, one could combine them and bring one life force back, assuming the box was full of human remains, possibly from other prisoners. He had never heard of it successfully being done, he wasn't about to let them try. Slowly, he got to his feet. As quietly and as quickly as he could, he pulled the rifle from his jacket. His head swam, threatening to send him to the ground once more, but he pushed forward. Suddenly a black cloud formed over the box, and made a beeline for Tony. Laughing madly, he allowed himself to be consumed by the cloud.

Taking the butt of his gun and putting all of his weight behind it, Sam clubbed Evan, watching in satisfaction as the bigger man went down.

"Hey!" Nick yelled as he spun. Watching in slow motion, he could only stare helplessly as Sam gracefully swung the gun around in an arc, bringing the youngest down next to his brother.

Pulling salt and lighter fluid out of his bag, he began to sprinkle both on the box in the center of the room. He had to take care of these remains before he could get Tony's. Flicking a match, he threw it into the box.

His head hurt so bad he wanted to puke. In someway that amazed even him, he was still functioning.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he watched as the cloud faltered, but remained. The flames in the box were dying down, which meant the cloud should have been destroyed.

With horror he realized the truth: it was too late. Tony had already absorbed the other's energies.

Scooping up his supplies, he ran towards 14A. He could feel the entity on his trail, the hatred and cold pouring from it seeped into his bones as he pushed himself further. He could tell his body was going to give out on him, but he had to keep going.

He had to get rid of the cloud. He knew as soon as he stopped it would be on him, giving him no chance to take care of the remains. Hitting the ground and rolling, he fired, and the rock salt dispersed the mass with a hiss.

Soon, he was on his feet again, running. Throwing himself into the cell, his eyes landed on what appeared to be a recently laid cement block, its clean face standing out in the dank cell. He began to hack at it with his pick, throwing the pain he was feeling into each swing, and grunted in satisfaction as it gave way. Throwing the box onto the ground, he once again began to dump salt and lighter fluid into the box. The pain in his head was unbearable. He swore he was dying. He felt a warm drop make a trail down his lower lip, and he knew with out looking that his nose was bleeding.

He never knew it hit him. Suddenly he was in the air, his body fighting for air. On instinct he flicked the lighter with numb fingers, and threw it into what he hoped was the box.

Sam never heard the shriek nor did he feel himself hitting the ground.

w-w

_He could just hang out in the darkness forever._ Add some beers and chicks, and I'd never leave, _Dean thought.  
_

_Straining, he tried to make out the words that were suddenly echoing through the darkness. It was a pleasant chant, rolling together like wisps of smoke coming off of a candle._

Missouri, _Dean gasped. He'd recognize that voice anywhere.  
_

_Something suddenly began to tug at him. It was annoying at first, like a kid tugging at his coat. Then, he was being wrenched from his solitude.  
_

_Pain came, hot, bright and blinding. Then, as quickly as it had come it was gone._

"Dean?" a female's voice called, drawing him out more.

He didn't remember going home with a chick. Hell, he didn't even remember being at a bar. He hoped to God the chick was at least hot.

Opening his eyes with a moan, he was met with a pair of soft blue eyes.

"Dean, you're wake! How are you feeling?" Long blonde hair hung gracefully down from the girl that was leaning over him.

"Jessica?"

"The one and only!" she beamed, straightening. "And believe me, in this town, I really am the one and only."

"Where's Sam?" he grunted as he sat up. He readied for the dizzying sensation he knew was coming, but for once it didn't. Besides feeling a little out of sorts and tired, he felt almost one hundred percent.

The phone rang, as if it was eager to answer Dean's question.

"Hello?"

"Dean, how are you?"

"Missouri?"

"How's Sam?"

"What do you mean? What are you doing calling? What's going on?"

"Well I finished the...wait...he didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?!" Dean didn't like the feeling of unease that had settled over him.

"Dean, is Sam there with you?"

"No, why, what's going on?"

The silence on the other end was deafening.

"Missouri, what's going on?" Dean repeated through clenched teeth. He had the feeling he was going to kill Sam over this later on.

"Sam called earlier, he told me what was going on, but now he's not answering. I…I performed a ritual, one that would save you by giving Sam the visions back."

"Why did you do that?!" Dean was furious. Just when Sam had been saved…

"Dean, don't you yell at me. Boy I ought to slap you."

Running his hand through his short hair, he tried to calm himself. "Sorry."

"I did it to save you. You were dying."

"Yeah? Well maybe it would have been for the best. If I would have died, Sam would have been spared the visions."

"You dying would have killed your brother."

Dean couldn't argue, he knew what Sam would have done to himself if he _had _died. "You said he wasn't answering his cell?"

"Mm-hmm, that's why I called you."

"Dean?" Jessica interrupted.

"What?"

"I don't mean to be eavesdropping, but should Sam have gone to the prison by himself?"

"He what!" Dean and Missouri yelled in unison. Remembering the vision he'd had about Sam being attacked, he shot to his feet. "Jessica, I need to get to that prison, now!!"

"Um, ok. Good thing we stopped to get my car."

"Dean, Sam's in real trouble," Missouri said quietly. "That ritual…he told me he was prepared for it. Honey, he's going to be hurting. I knew something was wrong! Why couldn't I feel it?"

The only thing Dean heard was 'he's going to be hurting', and it was enough. "Let's go."

Jessica wasn't driving fast enough Dean decided as he watched the speedometer. The speed limit in town was 25 mph, but Dean would have gladly been going 80. Finally, the prison loomed ahead.

_Please don't let me be too late_, Dean silently pleaded.

Barely waiting for Jessica to throw the car into park, he was out and running. He glanced uneasily at the Impala as he passed it, knowing what it meant. Next he was barreling through the still open gate, speeding across the courtyard, his only focus on reaching the cell block.

Stopping inside, he waited momentarily for his vision to adjust, and he surveyed the scene in front of him.

There had been one hell of a fight, the cell block was a mess. A box lay on the ground, charred. Next to it was a book, also burnt. Picking up his pace, he headed towards the cell he'd seen Sam disappear into.

"Sam?" he said quietly. "Sam?!" he tried again, louder. Just as he feared there was no answer.

Reaching the cell, he was relieved to find the floor empty, no dead body greeted him.

Just like in his vision, another box lay on the ground, almost entirely ashes. A pick also lay discarded on the floor and a huge hole in the wall gaped at him.

So where was Sam? Panic set in, what if Sam hadn't succeeded? What if the remains were burnt but the ghost was still alive?

He needed to find Sam, and fast. He had no clue where to even begin.

* * *

K guys, if it's another slow day at work tomorrow, I'll put the rest of this story up, along with thank yous. :)

Now if I could just figure out a way to get to supernatural.tv from work...lol.


	9. Final Showdown in Redneck Alley

dun dun DUN!!! Ok, so it's been an interesting time...but this is the last chapter of this story. Then I have two sequals up after that (the second one is still a WIP), so I'll try to get Greener up and going. I may just post it on here...or I might start another page.

timetowaste247, Poaetpainter, Rae666, JessicaRae24, Sodapop0876, Icewolfblackheart, dean'sdreamingangel, Winchester494, bb1028, Colby's girl, and Xdaisy chainX, thank you for the awesome reviews!! And thank you for being so patient lol...had a lot going on but hopefully I didn't leave you guys hanging too long!!. :)

Alsia, Kyrie, Sarah...what would I do with out my girls?? Thanks for reviewing over here too...Love you bunches!!!

Ok, enough blabber, on with the final chapter. :)

* * *

Someone was yelling. The loud voices hurt, and Sam just wanted them to go away. More yelling, this time accompanied by loud hiccups and sobbing. Focusing, he struggled to make out what they were saying. 

"You told them 'bout Dad! This is all yer fault!"

"Evan, I'm sorry," the other voice cried. There was a sound of flesh smacking flesh, and a startled cry.

"Because of you we have no hopes of gettin' Dad back! And now we halfta deal with _him_!"

A sick feeling told Sam he was the 'him'. Footsteps thudded heavily against the floor, so hard Sam could feel them. Then a door slammed, blanketing him in silence.

Daring to lift his head, he opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. His whole body ached, and his neck was sore from his chin being forced to rest on his chest.

It would never end. They were always going to do this to him. He was tied to a chair.

Not just any tie job either. They had tied his wrists together behind him, and then wrapped a rope around his chest, tying his arms to the chair. Slightly moving his legs, he confirmed that his ankles where tied together. There was also a rope across his lap, securing his butt to the chair.

The room began to spin, and flashes of light were going off everywhere. The pain was back, the never ending head splitting pain. Biting his lip to keep from crying out, Sam sat in the hard wooden chair, helpless and wave after wave of numbing pain hit him. Scenes began to play out in front of him, scenes of the prison, and scenes of himself. He saw himself die. Shuddering, he tried to shake the vision of his own lifeless eyes. He could almost feel Dean's anguish. The visions rolled into one another, Evan and Nick arguing, Tony pacing in his cell, the next he thought was a memory. It was of his fight with the ghost. For a moment his mind cleared, the pain dulled, and his breathing resumed its normal pace.

It was then that he realized those were the visions Dean had had. That meant Missouri had worked her magic. That meant Dean was safe. Sam sighed in relief and sagged in the chair. It had been all worth it.

Then, with out warning, pain hit again.

_**Flash**_

"_Sam? SAMMY!" Dean's voice rang out. He could hear laughing not far to his right.  
_

"_You all are going to die," a voice whispered in his ear.  
_

"_Dean, over here!" Jessica cried out.  
_

_The door was reduced to splinters as Dean stormed into the room. Sam felt something cold against his temple, and he realized it was a gun. He was also standing with his arms cuffed behind his back, and a large arm was banded across his chest, forcing him to lean back into the body behind him. He was at a disadvantage, and would be no use to his brother.  
_

"_You hurt my brother, I swear I will kill you," Dean said quietly. He didn't need volume with the tone that one simple statement had come out in.  
_

_Sam heard the man behind him swallow hard. He sensed fear suddenly, fear of the quiet rage in front of him. Evan, who Sam assumed was holding him, may have just realized he'd made a mistake. Dean was out for blood.  
_

"_You won't get me!" Evan shouted as he turned the gun on Dean. An explosion sounded in his ear, it was deafening. Watching in horror, the bullet made its way towards Dean, and found a home in the hunter's chest._

_**Flash**_

"No!" Sam yelled, though his voice came out in nothing more than a whisper. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind. Dean's surprised face as the bullet entered his body remained, taunting him.

Trying to take his mind off the vision, he tried to get a bearing on his surroundings.

He didn't know how long he'd been there. His body was stiff, and he had no feeling in his finger tips. He half expected to be in a room such as this. The walls were yellowed with age, the wallpaper chipping off in dry chunks. The carpet was worn down to the point of the floor being bald, and there were unidentifiable stains littered everywhere. There was a certain odor floating in the air, Sam didn't even want to know what it was.

The door flew open, and Evan stood in its frame, looking ready to kill.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" he screamed as he marched into the room. When his captive remained silent, he grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked his head back. Sam actually heard his neck pop, and his building headache intensified. He refused to give the jerk any sort of satisfaction, and continued to remain silent. His gaze evenly met with Evan's; they were looking eye to eye.

"Don't stare at me boy!" Evan screamed again as he backhanded Sam while hanging onto his hair. Sam couldn't help it, he released a moan. Smiling, Evan released him.

Sam sniffed a few times, and tasting blood, he turned his head to the side and spat.

"Do you have any clue as to what you've done?" Evan demanded again.

"Yeah, I sent your father and all his friends on a one way trip to hell-"

Evan reached forward and this time slammed his fist into Sam's jaw. Stars danced and the edges of Sam's vision were getting fuzzy. His head was screaming in pain now, wave after wave assaulted him. It was almost too much.

"You know, all I wanted was my Pa back. I finally found my little bro, I coulda had a family again. You ruined that! I'm gonna kill you!" Evan lunged forward, his hands reaching for Sam's neck.

"Evan! NO! Please, don't," came a small voice from the doorway, halting Evan. Nick stood there, a lost look on his face. "If you kill him…I couldn't stand it…"

"Nick, this cocky lil sum' bitch killed our father. He needs ta pay."

"No, Dad was already dead. I realize that now."

"What are you talkin' about? You were there, you saw Dad just like I did. We had him."

"No, I don't think that was Dad. You saw how angry he was. Evan, Dad died the day they shot him."

"You know what? Why am I even arguin' with you on this? You didn't even know him!"

"Evan, please, let's just leave. We can go somewhere else."

"No, we need to take care of this one first."

"No, please-"

"I swear to fucking God, if you say that one more time, you'll be joinin' him."

w-w

After cleaning up the mess in the cellblock, Dean and Jessica headed back out to the street. Taking her by the shoulders, Dean looked her in the eye.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about what Sam's been doing, about what's been going on," he said, his words laced with anticipation. He hated _waiting._

"Well, Sam didn't tell me a whole lot."

"_Damnit_ Sam. When did you officially get involved?"

"When I saved him from Evan."

"Saved? From who?"

"Well, I actually have to say he held up pretty well. Evan is Nick's brother, and apparently Nick is the bastard child of Tony Millhen, the prisoner," Jessica said, practically spitting out the term 'bastard'. "He attacked Sam outside the diner, drug him back in the alley. I zapped him with my gun, and saved him," she finished proudly.

Dean didn't hear the last part. He was seeing red. Someone had dared to lay a finger on what was his to protect, his whole reason for living, something he didn't take lightly.

"I need to know, do you know why Evan went after Sam?"

"No," she shook her head sadly. "I remember Evan raging on, something about Sam beating up his brother. I assumed it meant Sam had gone after Nick."

"No, that's not Sam. Sam's the levelheaded one."

"Um, Dean? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I don't know him that well, but it seems to me the past day or two, he's been a big ball of anger. I just thought anger was his nature. Though come to think while he was with you he was kind of the quieter one..."

Dean didn't like the sound of this. Apparently he had missed a lot while he had been out of it. Sam was missing, and they had no clue where to start looking. And now he had to find out that his brother had been raging all over the small town, not acting himself. That's when he got into the most trouble.

"So, I need to go find the only two others connected with this whole mess. Thanks Jessica," Dean gave a small salute as he headed towards the Impala. Damn, he was going to have to hotwire it.

Surprisingly the driver's door was unlocked. He was going to have to talk to Sammy boy about that later. He then realized he was banking a lot on the fact that he would find Sam. _What if..._ No, that thought wouldn't even be finished.

"Wait, don't you need my help? I can be very helpful. I think you're going to need my help," she was shouting after him.

"No, trust me, you've helped plenty. I can't take you with me now, it'll be too dangerous," Dean sighed as he ducked under the steering wheel. The Impala purred to life, and he went to shut the door.

"Jeez, are you trying to get an arm taken off?" he shouted at the girl with the death grip on his door.

"Please, Dean, let me help. Going off on his own got Sam into trouble, and I don't want the same to happen to you."

"Fine, get in," he said with exasperation. What happened to the light airy blonde he'd met the other day? This version of Jessica was a pain in the ass. Truth be told Dean was grateful for the help, and if she was with him, he wouldn't have to stew. Stewing led to anger, and anger led to recklessness. He couldn't afford that now.

Plus she seemed to know more about what was going on then he did, and in the end that might just be the thing that saved his brother. The less time he sat on the street arguing with her, the more time he could spend searching.

w-w

Sam was tired. His head still pounded from the attack of the visions earlier, and the numbing sensation on his face from the repeated slapping had worn off, leaving a dull ache. _Honestly, who slaps anymore?_ he wondered. His jaw was also becoming stiff, so he worked it carefully as he considered his options. After their argument, Evan had hauled Nick out of the room, leaving Sam alone to think.

Thinking led to plans, and Sam had one. He was pretty sure it was a good one, it sounded good in his mind at least, he just needed things to go right. Before he could come up with a plan B, the door burst open. Evan stood there, pointing a small gun at Sam's chest.

_Well, here goes_, he thought. _It was time, do or die. And Dean isn't about to die, so I'm doing._

"Honestly, I'm surprised at you," Sam said, shaking his head. He gave Evan a look of pity.

"What the hell are you blabbin' about?" he lowered the gun and took a step into the room.

"Here you are, all big and bad, picking on someone tied to a chair. Yeah, your daddy would be really proud," he scoffed. "Makes me wonder if you're not scared for a little more hand to hand-" Sam didn't need to finish that sentence before Evan was tossing his gun to the side and untying him.

"Let's go bitch," Evan growled.

w-w

After following Jessica's directions, Dean parked about a block away from their destination. They were going for the silent approach.

"How do you know where Nick lives?" Dean had asked.

"In a town of about 3,000 people, everyone knows where everyone lives."

An old apartment complex sat on top of a hill. Creeping through the dark parking lot, the pair headed towards the right apartment.

Dean halted at the top of the stairs. Nick sat outside one of the doors, his head in his hands.

Motioning for Jessica to be quiet, he silently made his way towards the man. _Is he_ crying? Dean thought with disgust. He already didn't like the man. No wonder he had apparently found Sam threatening, the guy would probably run screaming from a bee.

Taking a quick look around, he motioned to Jessica to keep a look out. Then he mouthed "watch for Evan". Nodding, Jessica began to keep watch.

Leaning in next to Nick, Dean whispered, "Aw what's the matter little guy?"

Nick slowly raised his head to look at Dean. His eyes were blank, as if he were in shock. He was muttering incoherently, when he suddenly jumped to his feet. "I'm….I'm going…going to lose my brother!!!" he gasped as he began to spin in circles.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Dean said, suddenly on edge. Why did he have the feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear?

"He's going to kill him, then they'll take him away…" Nick gasped again before falling silent once again.

A loud crash from inside the apartment startled Dean, he was going in there, now.

Sam stood up and shook the splinters from his hair. After Sam had finally been untied, Evan had taken the first shot, and had thrown him across the room into an old table, which had promptly shattered under his weight. Wincing at a sharp pain in his side, he faced the man in front of him. Evan stood there with a slight smirk on his face.

Before either man could move, a commotion in the front of the apartment startled them both.

Before Sam knew it, Dean was barreling through the door.

Dean stopped dead when he saw the huge ape of a man in front of him. Taking a quick glance at Sam, he realized with relief that his brother was alright.

"Holy shit," was all he could get out before the ape advanced on him, knocking him over with a swipe of his arm. Dean grunted as he hit the wall and slid to the floor.

He was pretty sure his head had hit the wall, and he was now watching everything through a haze.

Evan turned and slowly began to advance on Sam. Dean struggled to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. The haze vanished instantly when Sam swayed on his feet and crumpled to the floor.

In an instant, before he even knew what he was doing, he was on top of Evan, pounding into the larger man's head with his fist. His other arm was wrapped around the man's neck as he struggled to hang on. The ape was going down, he would see to it.

The next thing he knew he was flying, right towards another wall. At the last instant he twisted his body and so he hit the wall with his shoulders instead of face first. Grunting, he climbed to his feet and charged the man once more. Grabbing a broken table leg from the pile of scrap wood next to Sam, he swung and watched in satisfaction as the leg made contact with Evan's head. Evan fell to the ground, blood seeping from a wound on his head. But that was not going to stop him.

Before Dean knew it, the much larger man was back on his feet, heading towards him. Dean swung again with the table leg, this time letting it slam into Evan's stomach. Evan dropped, his arm wrapped around his waist. Dean pulled back his fist, and with as much strength as he could, he brought it down on his opponent's face, knocking the man out.

Poking at the larger man with the table leg, Dean refused to let his defenses drop until he knew the man was out. When Evan made no move to get up. Dean dropped his weapon and ran over to Sam.

Sam's face was twisted in pain and his breath was coming out in gasps.

"Sam, what's going on?" Dean asked, panicking. He could find no source of injury, which meant something internal was going on. Something he couldn't fix.

"My…my side," Sam choked out.

Rolling him slightly up, Dean was shocked to see a small pool of blood on the worn carpet.

Searching his brother's bloodied tee shirt for the source, he found a small piece of wood protruding from underneath Sam's ribcage. It stuck out about four inches, and was about an inch thick.

"Sam?" Jessica asked tentatively from the doorway.

Rushing to Dean's side, she gasped as she caught sight of the younger Winchester. "Oh my God Dean, I'll…I'll call 911!" While she spoke with the dispatcher, Dean tried his best to treat Sam.

"Here!" Jessica said as she thrust her thin sweater into Dean's hands.

Grabbing a long thin cloth from the bag, he wound the sweater as gently as he could around the protruding wood chip in an effort to stabilize it. Taking the cloth, he secured the sweater, trying not to tie it so tight as to cut off Sam's ability to breathe.

"So you're telling me after all that you've been through, killing a ghost on your own and kicking the ape's butt, you're going to let a table take you out?!" Dean grinned.

Sam laughed and winced as the movement jarred the chip.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You owe me," Sam smiled before he let the pain in his side and the hot white laces of pain in his head pull him under.

w-w

"A few days of rest and you'll be as good as new," Dr. Logan smiled warmly. Sam sat on the examine room table, a bright white bandage taped to his side. The wood chip had only traveled in about 2 inches, tearing nothing but muscle. He had still lost a small amount of blood, and that combined with the head splitting visions, had left him weak. He would probably never hear the end of his collapse from Dean. Luckily he had woken up before the medics had arrived, and that saved him from admission into the hospital.

"Thanks doc," Sam said quietly.

"Just try to be careful next time, don't piss off a man bigger than you, ok? Hit up the nurse's station before you leave and they'll give you all of what you need."

The doctor left just as Dean came waltzing in. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and two cups of hot coffee in his hands.

"So what did you tell the police?" Sam asked as he took one of the cups. Dean smiled and handed him a shirt from the bag.

"The truth…well sort of. Told them they were harassing Jessica so you went to go stand up for her. Man you should have seen her start balling in front of the cops, very convincing," Dean chuckled. "Told them things got rough till I came to the rescue."

"Of course," Sam quipped, a grin curving his lips.

"I guess Evan is wanted for several other assaults from here to New York, so it looks like he won't be out for a while. We're heroes Sam," Dean chuckled, repeating what the cop had said.

After turning to make sure the door was closed, Dean sat on the table next to Sam.

"Don't ever do that again," Dean said quietly, all traces of humor were gone.

"Do what?"

"Everything! You made some stupid mistakes during this hunt. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a newbie at this hunting stuff."

"I know," Sam whispered, lowering his head. "Wait, since when do you say "newbie"?"

"Don't change the subject, Sam. Want to tell me what happened? Why you were rampaging all over the place, getting into fights? That's not like you."

"I couldn't help it. I mean…once again, because of me, you were almost killed. It's bad enough you have to feel sorry for me during the visions, I just had to give them to you."

"When are you going to realize that it's never your fault? I mean for crying out loud, we got hit with enough electricity probably kill us both, but somehow we survived. How is that your fault?"

"They're my visions-"

"Yeah, because you begged and pleaded to have them," Dean retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Sam, even when I get taken out of the fight, if you are going to start getting all emotional and careless-"

Sam interrupted, "I'm not."

"Good, I've faced enough psycho hillbillies for you; I don't think I can do any more. Let's go."

And with that Dean was off the table and heading for the door. Sam smiled and finished buttoning up his shirt. He was still having trouble pushing aside the heavy feeling of guilt that seemed to consume him 24/7. But for right now, he was just glad to be alive, glad to be headed out once again.

* * *

-gasp- Hope you all enjoyed:)

I'm going to start posting Greener here hopefully soon, so be on the lookout for the sequal.

In Greener, I took the angsty route...Sam's gonna find out what life would have been like if he had died that fateful night with his mother. Would John really have insisted on living a normal life? Or is something messing with our boys once again?

Thanks again guys. Much much loves!!


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